Badger You('re) Better
by dozefallsdownthestairs
Summary: Fourth year Hufflepuff Alfred Jones has determined to remake his image this year. If all goes well, that awesome Gryffindor seeker with the eyebrows will pay attention to his pick up lines. UsUk. HP AU
1. Chapter 1

**And another story... you may be wondering what the actual f is wrong with you doze? And you would be right. *cries***

 **If you wanna get my aesthetic for this story, you'll have to listen to She's Kinda Hot by Five Seconds of Summer and probably High School Never Ends by Bowling for Soup. Anything that's high school trash though. I'm trying to remember what I was even like when I was fourteen, haha? (I turned 19 a couple days ago...)**

 **For clarity's sake:**

 **Alfred is fourteen and a Hufflepuff. Matthew is also fourteen and a Hufflepuff. Arthur is sixteen and a Gryffindor. Francis is sixteen and a Ravenclaw.**

 **Disclaimer: I have not read HP for some time now. Please forgive me for any errors! But feel free to point them out.**

 **Disclaimer 2: Arthur is a bit of a dick... but give it a chance, eh? You never know what'll happen. ;)**

 _ **This fic is dedicated to Zeplerfer and their awesome goal to write Alfie and Artie in all the different houses! Check out her stuff!**_

 **Much love to you all, doze!**

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"Are you sure about this, Alfred? I'm sure it wouldn't cost that much more to go in and have this done somewhere?"

Alfred rolled his eyes impatiently. "I didn't buy the gun for nothing, Matt. And I didn't invite you over to stand there! Come on!"

Matthew scowled, shifting the bargain piercing gun from hand to hand. They were both in muggle clothing, shorts and sneakers, in the heat of July. He had agreed to visit Alfred in Florida over break, but now he was really wishing he had stuck with Montreal. It was hot here!

"Why do you want your ears pierced so badly all of a sudden? You're just asking for them to add a new rule at Hogwarts or something," Matthew muttered, setting the gun down on the dresser.

"I told ya already, Matt." Alfred sprawled backwards on his twin bed, reaching to pull his wand out from under his pillow. "I'm remaking my image this year. I'm gonna try out for the Quidditch team, not get stuck in a sucky Beater position again. I'm gonna do my hair different. All cool like." He whipped his hands around his head. "I got a girl's spellbook for doing hair. What could go wrong?"

Matthew smiled slightly, but said nothing. Something could definitely go wrong, and he wanted to see it when it did. "Jeez, Al, who you trying to impress? Wanna take someone to the ball this year?"

Alfred scowled, "Don't make fun of me, dipwad. I saw you macking with that girly French boy last year. Gross."

Matthew reddened, throwing the piercing gun at Alfred's chest. "He was tutoring me. We were in the library. He's a smart guy, and honestly your dumb ass could use his help."

"My dumb ass doesn't care about History of Magic. That's all." Alfred retorted, not even wanting to think about his barely passing grades in every subject but Defense.

Matthew smirked, "Well don't expect a sixth year to notice you for your brilliance then."

Alfred sat up, fixing Matthew with a glare. "A sixth year?"

"Oh yeah, Al, act innocent." Matthew smirked.

"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."

Matthew shrugged, "Fine then. I heard Kirkland was planning on transferring to Durmstrang this semester anyway."

"What? He's transferring! He's never said anything about that in the dining hall."

"Since when do you sit with him in the dining hall?" Matthew smirked in amusement.

"They're Gryffindors," Alfred grumbled. "I overhear things. They talk loud."

"Right," Matthew rolled his eyes. "Give over, Al. You've had the biggest thing for him since second year when he held your hand."

"He wasn't holding my hand!" Sparks actually flew from the end of Alfred's wand and he tossed it away moodily. "He was making sure I wouldn't get lost again after I wandered into their Transfiguration class on accident. He's just a nice guy, Matt."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "Yeah, a really nice guy, who thinks of no one but himself."

"Hey, that isn't true," Alfred protested. "In second year, he was totally helping me find my class."

"Cuz Professor McGonagall ordered him to," Matthew rolled his eyes again. "Jeez, Al, half the time I think he doesn't even know Hufflepuff exists. It's like we're some extension of the house elves. He actually dumped his cloak on top of Toris once. Thought he was a coat rack!"

"That's cuz we let ourselves get run over," Alfred pointed out. "Which is exactly why you need to pierce my ears. I'll show 'em all that Hufflepuff is the coolest house at Hogwarts."

Matthew flinched. "Alfred, I think everybody would prefer it if you didn't."

"Shut up, Matthew."

Ultimately, Alfred didn't get his ears pierced. His mom found the piercing gun in his room and it was all over from there. He was certain there was a more painless way to do it with magic, but he even he wasn't brave enough to go looking for it. He could just imagine all the horrific things he might accidentally do to his ears.

This year he was particularly looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. Despite Matthew's annoying jabs, he had determined that he would at least once successfully hit on Arthur Kirkland, legendary Gryffindor seeker and top of his sixth year class. If anything it would increase the coolness of Hufflepuff in general by at least a hundred fold. When Alfred had first heard of Hogwarts, he had thought he was destined to end up in Gryffindor with the heroes.

The sorting hat quickly dispelled that illusion. Hufflepuff wasn't bad at all though. All the other houses took themselves too seriously. It was always the Hufflepuff guys chilling in the common room or having Monday night butterbeer fests. Sure, Gryffindor was known for its mythical blow out raves. But Hufflepuffs knew how to keep the good times coming and constant.

Alfred loved the buddies in his house. Matthew and Toris and Lizzy and Ned. They were all great. Homework was of secondary importance, while maintaining friendships always hit first. People never seemed to expect much from their house, so whenever one of their underdogs did manage to succeed everyone always celebrated together.

Yet Alfred couldn't help but look longingly at the Gryffindor table every once in awhile. Hufflepuff Quidditch was almost certainly a joke. Their team floundered around in the air, while the Gryffindors (and the Slytherins and even the Ravenclaws) flew. Occasionally, they got a really motivated captain who could turn things around for a season. But ever since Kirkland had become seeker, their chances were dashed.

He couldn't be more different that Arthur. For one, Arthur was pure blood, and the only child of a prominent wizarding family. Alfred was muggleborn and embraced it, as did Matthew, but it didn't really help their coolness factor when they could be impressed by chocolate frogs. Arthur was freaking smart, too. Alfred loved magic, but he kind of sucked at it. Unless it was magical combat where the adrenaline seemed to do all the work. He was bound to be stuck in Remedial Potions for the rest of his sorry existence.

Arthur was also popular in the most generic worn-out way of using the word. Everybody at Hogwarts knew his name. The seventh years pandered to him, and the teachers were quick to brag about him. All the Quidditch scouters were already looking for his signature. Rumor had it he'd been offered an apprenticeship by the Charms professor for after graduation. Whereas Alfred was constantly called that loud kid that looks like maple syrup boy what was that country... Canada?

He could count the times he'd spoken to Arthur on one hand. Something about being so near to stardom made his knees go weak. He really regretted some of the things that have come out of his mouth.

And he understood, he did. Someone like Arthur shouldn't even give him the time of day. It didn't help that Matthew and his gang of Hufflepuff friends seem to have it out for Arthur. Oh, they couldn't really hate him. "Hufflepuff" and "hate" were mutually exclusive terms or just about. But they didn't like him.

Alfred didn't understand why. Kirkland was going out there winning Quidditch cups and Outstanding OWLS and probably illegally entered Triwizard Tournaments (if this year was going to be anything like Arthur's last). They should all want to be Kirkland, and it was frankly childish of them to be so jealous.

When September 1st rolled around, Alfred stood on platform nine and three-quarters with his usual crew. Lizzy was chatting amiably with a stony-faced Ravenclaw that he thought was Roderich. Matthew was catching up with Kiku, another Ravenclaw buddy. Ned and Toris, strangely, were with a group of Slytherins, making polite chit-chat. But Alfred wasn't paying attention to them at all.

Standing on his tip-toes, he just managed to catch a glimpse of familiar wild golden hair. His heart jumped and he quickly straightened his sloppy robes, making his way forward. Arthur was surrounded by a crowd of obnoxious Gryffindors. He didn't seem to be making much of an effort to converse with any of them. Alfred had realized from his constant watching of Arthur over the years that he actually got tired of his friends rather quickly.

"Quidditch this season is going to be epic," One of them named Gilbert was expounding enthusiastically. "You feeling at your best, Arthur?"

Arthur snorted, running his green eyes over the lot of them. "I could fly better than you in my sleep Beilschmidt. Don't joke."

The Gryffindors booming laughter all but shook the platform. Alfred laughed along with them, trying to edge closer. But they formed an impenetrable wall around Arthur.

"Okay, Kirkland," Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I'll remember that next time I'm beating a bludger away from your face."

"What'll you remember?" Arthur stretched languidly, adjusting his red and gold tie. He smirked. "That you're in danger of the second years beating you out this season?"

The Gryffindors chimed in with their laughter like a studio audience. Alfred stood on tip toe, slowly pushing his way through. Gilbert didn't actually look very happy with the comment, and he said snidely, "Alright, Arthur. And what's made you king of the hill all of a sudden?"

"All of a sudden?" Arthur raised his eyebrows like Gilbert must be crazy. "Have you been around the last two seasons by any chance? Two busy hitting bludgers with your head, mate? You know that's why you have the bat."

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, his jaw setting.

"I'd been saving this announcement for another time, but I figure it's relevant now." Arthur looked around at the gathered crowd. "My father's bought me a new broom. Latest model straight off the line. I'll be taking resignations from the other house teams. Save them the trouble of losing. Is that what you're here for?"

Alfred finally fell through the crowd, almost on top of Arthur freaking Kirkland. He backed up breathlessly, staring with wide eyes. Damn it. He couldn't lose his cool now. He'd made it all the way through the entourage.

"Hey," he said, leaning suavely against the train. "That's cool that you got a new broom. You're gonna be like crazy fast now."

Arthur raised his thick eyebrows and looked around at the other Gryffindors. Many of whom were snickering into their palms. "Did you get lost?" Arthur asked him, and he blinked.

"Uhh, what?"

"The first years sit down at that end of the train. Want me to find a prefect to help you out, little guy?"

Alfred flinched. So he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. Jeez. He didn't notice the other Gryffindors laughing or Arthur's widening smirk.

"No, that's alright, Arthur. I'm a fourth year. I'm in Hufflepuff. I play Quidditch too." He smiled winningly. "You've got some sick moves, alright."

"Oh he thinks your moves are sick!" Gilbert squawked, snickering into his palm. "What do you think of that, Tony?"  
"So sick," Antonio chuckled as well. "You want Arthur's autograph, kid? Anybody got a quill? He'll sign your forehead if you say please."

"Uh, that's alright," Alfred held up his hands, laughing nervously with them. "I just wanted to tell him that I love watching him play and-

"Oh, you've got yourself a little 'puffer fan, Art," Antonio elbowed Arthur in the side.

"I suppose I do," Arthur agreed, eyes sparkling in amusement. "What's your name?"

"Alfre-"

"Alex, right, I've seen you before." Arthur interrupted, scratching the back of his neck. "How's about you track down the food cart and buy me a couple of chocolate frogs?"

"Uh," Alfred opened and closed his mouth. "Yeah, of course, I, sure... Did you have any knuts?"

"Locked in my trunk," Arthur shrugged. "On second thought, get some for my whole compartment. We don't want to have to wait for her to come round. She's getting slower every year." The Gryffindors laughed again, but Alfred frowned thinking of the nice old lady who sold him Pumpkin Pasties for discount price.

"Hey, don't be a jerk to her," He retorted sharply. Arthur's green eyes landed on him with their full force and he felt his stomach flip.

"Just get the frogs, would you, Alex? I'm famished. You can't expect your team to play good Quidditch without keeping their strength up." He tousled Alfred's hair as he walked by, entering the train without another look.

"Alfred," he muttered to himself. "That's okay, Arthur. I'll make sure you remember next time."

"Please don't tell me you're going to get them for him," Matthew sighed after Alfred recounted the story to their train compartment.

"He's treating you like dirt, Al," Lizzy chimed in with her mouthful. "And he thinks it's funny."

"Come on, guys, no he isn't." Alfred stood to pay the shop lady for his hoard of chocolate frogs. "His money was in his trunk, so it was just easier this way. I think he's happy that I'm his fan, too."

Ned groaned low in the back of his throat, and Toris just pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"Have you thought, Alfred," Kiku murmured in that quiet voice of his. "That it's strange for Arthur to make you pay when you're the poor muggleborn and he's a wealthy pureblood?"

Alfred blinked. "His money was in his trunk. He'll pay me back."

Matthew groaned. "Alfred, for god's sake, Arthur's a jerk. He always gets what he wants. You don't need to roll over for him too. He doesn't even know your name!"

"Stop being a dick, Matthew," Alfred gathered his armload of chocolate frogs and prepared to depart. "You're just jealous because Arthur's got better grades than you do. That and he had no problem landing that French boy you have a thing for-

"Fine, Alfred! Be an idiot!" Matthew exploded. "We go through this every damn year. At some point you have to realize it. So have at it. I'm not going to say anything anymore."

"Good," Alfred retorted, turning on his heel. Matthew may be his best friend, but he didn't understand. Arthur was _cool._ And they weren't. It was as simple as that. Arthur could act however he wanted to, and he wasn't really being a jerk. Just joking around. Alfred didn't have a snowflakes chance in hell of getting good grades, and his muggleborn status was already going to make it hard for him to find a place in the wizarding world in the future. The least he could do was try to capitalize on some of Arthur's coolness. Even if it meant jumping ship and becoming an unofficial groupie for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Alfred exhaled, pushing back his shoulders as he neared the end of the train. The door of Arthur's compartment was opened so he leaned in. "I've got the-

"Geez, what took you so long?" Gilbert jumped him before he could finish the sentence, causing him to spill frog packages all over the floor. "Careful. Or they'll all get out!" Gilbert cuffed him over the ear as he bent to pick them up. "Wouldn't want to be the only firstie left on the train before Sorting, would ya? You'd have to clean 'em all up."

"I'm a fourth year." Alfred scowled, shoving the older student off of him. "I told you that already, dipwad."

"You better watch yourself, 'puffer." Gilbert straightened his robes, letting his wand fall from his sleeve into his hand threateningly. "Fourth year or not, I'll bet I know better jinxes than you."

Alfred scowled, tossing his wad of chocolate frogs on one of the seats. He could just see Arthur in the back by the window, looking bored with their display. Alfred wasn't much for memorizing spells, but a good unorthodox duel always got his blood boiling. It was his only chance of looking impressive with magic.

He drew his wand and pointed it at Gilbert. "Wanna try me?"

Gilbert's red eyes gleamed hellishly. He opened his mouth, but Arthur interrupted him.

"Put that thing away, will you? I've seen that Hufflepuff in dueling club. He just waves his wand and waits to see what happens. If you want to get hit by the mystery magic of the day, by all means."

Alfred flinched, reddening. Still... "You've seen me in dueling club?" He asked happily.

"Who wouldn't have seen you? You caused the chandelier to fall on you. Your opponent didn't even have to move." Arthur snorted.

"Yeah," Alfred scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I was trying to hit him with like a blast of wind or something, but I aimed too high. I was picking candle wax off my robes for weeks!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Do me a favor, Alex. Don't do magic around me any time soon."

"My name's-

"Yeah, Arthur's saving himself for the tournament." Antonio quipped suddenly from the corner.

Alfred's eyes grew huge. "You're planning on entering the tournament? As a sixth year?"

It surprised him when Arthur shifted uneasily. "I told you to stop saying that, Antonio. I'm sixteen. I won't be seventeen till the end of term. I'm not allowed to enter."

Antonio snorted, standing to lean his elbow on Alfred's shoulder. "He doesn't mean that, kid. Make sure you spread the word."

Arthur scowled angrily, grabbing one of the chocolate frog packages and throwing it at Antonio's head. He missed and it clocked Alfred, causing Gilbert to start snickering again. "What do I have to say to get through to you, idiot? I'm not entering the tournament." He threw himself back moodily against his seat, stripping open a package and biting off the frog's head. Alfred winced for the poor little guy. He never had a chance.

"Ok, well that's cool that you're following the rules and all," Alfred chimed in, earning himself a glare from all three of them. "Uh, I guess I'll just be going. If there's anything else-

"Actually, now that you mention it," Arthur interrupted, standing. "I need you to deliver something for me."

"What is it?" Alfred nearly skipped for joy as Gilbert moved out of the way to let him into the train compartment. He lost his balance and bumped into Arthur's side, earning himself a horrifying snarl. "S-sorry."

This close, Arthur wasn't actually that must taller than him. He was light and small, a seeker. Alfred was a bit thicker (not fat!), and he was bound to be taller in the future like his dad. Still, Arthur was _sixteen._ And being this close to him, he could smell that Arthur wore cologne and that he had stumble on his cheeks. (Alfred meanwhile felt he would forever be the baby-face of Hufflepuff. Even Matthew shaved now!)

Arthur's gold hair was somewhat out of control as his mom would put it. She barely let Alfred keep his the length he had it, with that one goofy strand that defied gravity. Arthur's thick dark eyebrows were just as wild. Alfred had never seen them up close. They were huge and cottony and soft looking. His green eyes were his most noticeable feature, and they were the only thing Alfred remembered from first year. Matthew may have pinned his obsession at second year, but he was wrong. He'd admired thirteen year old Arthur Kirkland with his brand new broomstick even back then.

Arthur's Gryffindor robes smelled new and clean, but not like laundry detergent. They had an indefinable scent of being washed by magic.

Arthur wrestled to pull down his trunk, setting it on the seats. "This," he pulled out an envelope. "is for Francis Bonnefoy. You know who I'm talking about? That dickish Ravenclaw with the girl's hair and the French accent."

Alfred rolled his eyes, holding out his palm. "What do you want to talk to him for? You're a million times cooler."

Arthur flushed a little bit, scowling. "Just give it to him, 'puffer. And tell him that I know where the prefect's bathroom is, too."

Alfred blinked nonplussed. "Uh, oka-

"Do you want the 'puffer to send Francis your love as well?" snorted Gilbert, his mouth covered in chocolate. Alfred gaped to find the majority of the frogs already gone. Damn, that had to be close to his own record.

"Beilschmidt, I suggest you close your mouth, before I charm it shut." Arthur grumbled. "Don't open the envelope, alright, Alex? If I find out you have or that anybody else in the school knows, you'll be sorry."

Alfred blinked, wide-eyed. "Wait. This is a love letter?"  
Antonio guffawed loudly. "So much for being subtle, Kirkland."

Arthur cursed angrily, "What is it about you, Antonio? That you've become so damn annoying over holiday? It's like you've contracted a disease."

"Well, if he has a disease, you must be dying," Gilbert noted rather dispassionately. "Francis is going to laugh in your face for this. All because he said no to a little-

"Shut up!" Arthur howled, looking genuinely furious. He turned pointing his wand at Alfred. "You better make this work, Alex. Or it'll be your head. Understand me?"

"Make what work?" Alfred asked, beginning to wish he had just stayed in his Hufflepuff compartment.

"Arthur's love life," Antonio snickered. And he instantly regretted it, when Arthur knocked him out with a fullblown jinx from inches away.

Not wanting to be next, Alfred and Gilbert both went for the door, leaving Arthur cursing behind them.

"Rotten luck for you, Alfred," Gilbert remarked, throwing an arm around him. "Francis will have a field day with this. It'll be all over the school by tomorrow."

"You know my name?" was all Alfred could think to say.

Gilbert winked, "Everybody's about to know your name, kid. I recommend delivering that little beauty right after Sorting. In fact," he leaned forward, tapping it with his wand. "It should go off at just about that time."

Alfred's eyes grew wide with horror as the envelope changed colors, blurring from innocent white to an ugly red. "What the hell did you do?" He asked faintly, though he already knew.

"Upped the ante a little," Gilbert snickered. "Better learn some good defense spells fast, Alfie. When that Howler goes off later, you're gonna need 'em."

"I'll... I'll leave it on the train," Alfred said faintly. "I won't get-" He squeaked in horror when he saw the envelope smoking at the edges.

"Now, I wouldn't think of doing that," Gilbert pulled another frog from his pocket, slapping Alfred on the back as he walked by. "I didn't get into this school because I could open and close daisy pedals."

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 **Please follow if you want to be aware of updates as this story does not have a regular update schedule yet! Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys here's chapter two! I will attempt to update this story on Fridays.**

 **Just a note here: I hadn't actually planned to write the original HP professors into my story, but McGonagall's name found its way into my first chapter so all the other professors are going to remain nameless maybe? And there will just be McGonagall kicking ass? You guys down for that? Haha.**

 **Note 2: I'm pretty sure Quidditch was canceled in the fourth HP for the tournament. Yeah, we're gonna pretend that doesn't happen. There's only three tournament events. We could use some Quidditch. Also, my timeline for the tournament doesn't follow HP canon. Everyone knows about the tournament happening this year. The process gets started as soon as term starts. Everything else should be the same though.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you to every one who _faved and followed._ Your support is so appreciated. Many thanks also to my reviewers!**

 **much love, doze**

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"Alfred, are you alright?"

Against general opinion, Matthew could in fact speak loud. He was doing it now as they headed towards the thestral carriages. It made it harder for Alfred to pretend he hadn't heard over the din.

The red Howler was tucked safely in his robes, and he could swear he felt it burning against his chest. For some measure of security, he had his wand balled tightly in his fist. It wouldn't do him much good, but it felt nice just to hold it. He was already imagining what his public castration would look like after the Howler went off. One of the reasons he admired Arthur's Quidditch so much was his ruthlessness. Despite being small, he employed a killer body slam. Last season, he'd knocked the Ravenclaw seeker straight out of service for a month.

Of course, all that ruthlessness was about to be turned on him. And he preferred his head attached to his shoulders.

"Alfred, you look like you've seen a ghost," Matthew said with a weak chuckle as they climbed into one of the carriages. A small joke they shared after finding out the other was muggleborn sometime in first year.

"It's nothing, Matt," Alfred retorted, crossing his arms over his stomach. "Just some bad chocolate frogs or something." Matthew would certainly find out soon enough. "Hey, out of curiosity, you wouldn't know how to disarm a Howler, would you?"

Matthew groaned. "What did you do this time?"

Alfred scowled at him, while Lizzy snickered. The carriages jolted to life, dragging him reluctantly towards his destiny. He had been too afraid to leave the damn thing on the train. Every time he so much as started to set it down it had smoked like a cigar. It was an incredibly clever bit of charm work, whatever Gilbert had done. Alfred had nowhere near the level of skill to disable it. He supposed he could have just tried to stay on the train with it, but he didn't want to imagine where he'd end up then. Where did the Hogwarts Express go after Hogwarts?

"What are you taking this term?" Kiku's soft accented voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"The usual," Alfred laughed tonelessly. "Remedial everything."

"But I heard your performance in Defense was excellent last year?"

"Well, I guess not remedial Defense," Alfred amended, wincing. Kiku was too nice. The guy was a genius. He was the only Japanese wizard Alfred knew. Kiku never gave away all of his cards.

Kiku's brown eyes bored into his for a minute. "They're assigning student tutors this year."

"What?" Alfred rubbed his hand distractedly where the Howler lay.

"For remedial subjects. I was asked to become one." Kiku supplied calmly.

"Well, it means I'll probably have like seven tutors," Alfred said miserably. "That on top of extra remedial lessons!" He dropped his head back against the seat in despair. "God, I hate my schedule too. I've got all the core stuff. Plus Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy! Why the fuck did I let you talk me out of taking Muggle Studies?" He directed his question sharply at Matthew who snorted.

"Don't act like I forced you. You found the rumor about working cable in the Muggle Studies classroom was false, and you were out. Anyway, you like Care of Magical Creatures. It's like your best class."

"That's like saying P.E. is my best class," Alfred growled, crossing his arms irritably.

"P.E.?" Lizzy and Kiku both tilted their heads to the side. Matthew laughed, but Alfred only rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood right now. He was literally carrying his death warrant, and his friends were insisting on reminding him about his suckass school record.

"This isn't why I brought it up, Alfred," Kiku said suddenly, squinting at him. "I already know which students I'll be working with."

"Really?" Alfred perked up. "Please tell me it's me or I'm going to hit you for getting my hopes up."

"Not you," Kiku said, calmly dodging Alfred's half-hearted punch. "Your Gryffindor icon."

"Arthur _Kirkland_?" He, Lizzy, and Matthew all said in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, you're pulling my leg!" Alfred threw his hands in the air. Kiku looked quizzically at his leg, but then back up at him. "You're a fourth year like us."

"I'm ahead in Potions," Kiku said.

"Yeah, I forgot you're NEWT level already," Matthew scratched the back of his neck. Lizzy whistled, causing Kiku's cheeks to turn red.

"You're tutoring him in Potions?" Alfred asked.

Kiku grimaced. "Pray for my safety."

"But Arthur's marks are excellent!"

Matthew shot Alfred a dubious look. "Have you actually seen Arthur's marks?"

"No, but everybody talks about them! And all the teachers-

"Has anyone ever mentioned his Potions, though?" Lizzy cut in.

Alfred blinked. Huh.

"Are they really that bad?" He asked Kiku, surprised by the excitement in his voice. Matthew raised his eyebrows.

"I thought you worshipped him for success, Al."

"I don't worship him." Alfred retorted grumpily. "It's just nice to know that he isn't as unreachable as I thought he was. In fact, this conversation has given me a brand new scheme. Thanks guys."

They all groaned, but Alfred was used to it. So Arthur wasn't good at Potions. This could work for him. He had quite a few funny Potions mess ups. If he could get in some good stories, endear himself a little, maybe Arthur would return the favor. Finally some level ground!

His heart dropped when he remembered the Howler in his pocket.

Matthew had to practically drag him into the dining hall. "What is wrong with you, Al? You're always psyched about the feast."

"Not today," Alfred groaned, holding his stomach with both arms. He caught Gilbert's eye through the crowd of students, his wizard's hat tilted jauntily. He winked, bringing thumb and forefinger to his lips and then pulling them away, pretending to exhale. Alfred flinched. Smoke. The Howler. Gilbert was such a fucking bastard.

As they took their seats at the Hufflepuff table, Alfred's eyes roved the Ravenclaw one. Maybe by some freak accident Francis wouldn't be here. It wouldn't be much better, but... He sighed in defeat when he spotted the familiar blonde head. Francis was dressed immaculately in Ravenclaw robes, every single hair in place. Though he was only sixteen, he had the beginnings of a beard on his chin and unlike almost every boy his age he wore it well. His eyes were blue like Alfred's but clearer and lighter like the sky. Even knowing Arthur Kirkland, Francis was the most confident person Alfred had ever met. It didn't matter that he was in Ravenclaw; he owned it.

Alfred sent a look towards the Gryffindor table where Arthur too was watching Francis. The Frenchman made even guys like Arthur look twice.

Alfred settled lower on the bench, wishing he could put his head down without the headmaster noticing. They were too near the front. The letter was hot against his chest. It was only a matter of time.

All at once, he'd realized the Triwizard Tournament had completely slipped his mind. There were extra tables crammed on the ends of their usual set up and soon they were filled with students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Alfred oohed and ahhed over the flashy entrances, while the Slytherins (and most of the Gryffindors attempted) to hold their game faces. By the time, the Sorting hat was placed in front of them. The letter felt red-hot.

Alfred could feel his cheeks burning already. Not only would he be made a fool of in front of the entire school, but in front of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as well! Some part of him wished the Sorting would just go on for eternity. He would never continue fourth year, never take his OWLs, never fail his NEWTs, never die in misery as a lowly muggle office worker. Yeah, the Sorting could just go on forever. He was down for that.

The names dwindled. Usually, Alfred felt sympathy for the frightened looks on the first year's faces. But today he knew his pain was greater. One particular name managed to pull the cotton from his ears.

"Kirkland, Peter."

The dull silence that had preceded was suddenly broken with whispers. Alfred turned to Matthew in befuddlement. "Arthur's an only child... isn't he?" The whole school seemed to have thought so, having long made it their business to know everything about their latest Gryffindor golden child. Only the Slytherins were silent. Nothing ever seemed to surprise them.

Alfred searched for Arthur's face along the Gryffindor table, but to his horror found the spot empty. Gilbert and Antonio were looking at each other, talking in low voices for once. Alfred wondered what they were saying. Poor little Peter Kirkland gladly pulled the hat down over his eyes, but they could all see his neck was red.

"What a cruel thing to do to a little boy," Lizzy muttered indignantly.

Everyone waited in strange anticipation for the hat's decision. The Gryffindors already had their hands half way raised for applause, certain that no mythical brother of Arthur's would end up anywhere else.

The hat took its damn time with this one. Alfred supposed he should be grateful. He was just considering, slipping the Sorting and looking for Arthur. If the Howler went off outside with just him and Arthur, he might be able to keep his head. The question was if he could run fast enough before it blew up in his face.

The hat suddenly straightened itself, opening its mouth with certainty. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Alfred's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Matthew had to grab him by the collar and tow him to his feet. His house hadn't applauded this loudly in awhile. Glancing around, he saw the Gryffindors looking shell-shocked, the Slytherins immutable as always, and the Ravenclaws calculating.

Since they were sitting near the end of the table, Peter hesitantly plopped down next to Alfred. Smiling nervously at the uproar all around him. He didn't seem upset with his house placement.

"Hi, I'm Alfred," Alfred held out his hand. "Welcome to Hufflepuff."

Each of them shook Peter's hand, murmuring welcomes. It honestly surprised Alfred that Peter was smiling so widely. Sure, Sorting was adrenaline inducing in itself. But it was more than common that those first Sorted into Hufflepuff felt a little cheated. Alfred himself had been devastated at missing the "hero" house. The Hufflepuff reputation just wasn't much to brag about.

But if Peter was upset, it didn't show at all. Alfred didn't even notice that Sorting was over until Professor McGonagall accidentally brushed his back with the Sorting stool as she headed out.

"Alfred, why is there smoke coming from your robe?" Peter asked with wide innocent blue eyes. They were nothing like Arthur's, but the resemblance was still there. The hefty eyebrows and the wild blonde hair.

Alfred squeaked in horror, clapping both hands against his chest. He started to stand up, determined to make a run for it. He bumped slap into Gilbert. "Give it to me," Gilbert demanded. His sudden appearance in the aisle nearly caused Alfred to fall over.

Alfred blinked in bewilderment. "Wha-

"Give it to me!" Gilbert grabbed him by the front of his robes. "I didn't realize-

"Is there a problem, boys?" Professor McGonagall had managed to sneak up on him yet again. Alfred couldn't tell because of the adrenaline, but he might have peed his pants. Every single eye was on them. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students were muttering amongst themselves. Those Hogwarts crackpots, at it again.

"Why do you want it?" Alfred asked, trying to jerk away at the same time Gilbert shouted. "You useless fucker. Trust me. I need it!"

"Mr. Beilschmidt," Professor McGonagall began to berate him on his language. But there wasn't time for it. Alfred tried to jerk away from Gilbert. He could feel the thing actually singeing his robes. He had moments before-

Gilbert suddenly tugged too hard and they both fell in a heap. At the same time, a small explosion occurred and Alfred felt like he'd had a heartattack. A booming rendition of Arthur's voice echoed out over the dining hall. The letter jerked away from Alfred to hover right at the level of his face.

 _Dear Francis,_

"No!" Alfred and Gilbert both howled in unison, but their voices were lost to the noise.

 _I know you probably don't want to hear this from me. I haven't exactly been the greatest to you since that time in the Prefects bathroom. I've missed more than your sex; I swear. If you gave me another chance, I would-_

It felt like Alfred's eyes really did bug out of his head this time. Gilbert had sunk to the ground in resignation, while everyone else watched the letter like they were hypnotized. The strange magical wind of its shouting blew right into Alfred's face, like it was shouting all the words at him. Arthur liked another boy! He'd known that already. Surely... yeah, it didn't bother him.

But hearing Arthur's secrets being shouted to the Great Hall was too wrong. Alfred did the only thing he could think of. He scrambled to his knees and fell forward like a sack of bricks.

Admittedly, he wasn't the fittest of the Hufflepuffs. He wasn't fat! Just big-boned or whatever they called it. Exercise was a mortal sin here anyway. Blame wizard culture and Pumpkin Pasties and like the fact that the only sport they really played involved sitting on a stick of wood. Not exactly the height of athleticism.

He didn't think his bright idea would really work. But he'd always had magic in his blood. Sometimes when he really needed it, his magic answered him in ways he'd never expect. With his cheek smashed awkwardly into the stone floor and the Howler buzzing under his belly, he realized it had worked. The sound was still there, but muffled to a degree that no one could understand. Alfred felt like he was laying across a deep bass speaker and his teeth chattered with the vibrations.

It wouldn't have been the worst experience of his life if he hadn't met Arthur Kirkland's eyes. From his undignified spot on the ground, he could just see Arthur standing in the doorway of the Great Hall, returned from wherever he had gone during Sorting. No one had noticed him yet. His green eyes were huge as saucers, his face an ashen white.

Alfred knew the feeling as Arthur seemed to choke on air. _I'm sorry,_ he thought desperately even though it was Gilbert's stupid fault.

Alfred expected Arthur's expression to turn murderous, but it never did. He braced himself against the door of the Great Hall, before he fled.

Feeling like all the life had drained out of him, Alfred laid his forehead against the floor until the sound ceased. Matthew yanked him to his feet with wide eyes and Gilbert started to shuffle back to his seat. No doubt they would be speaking with the Headmaster later.

The Hogwarts staff tried valiantly to renew the former enthusiasm brought on by the Triwizard Tournament, but most of the students had fallen to gossip. Arthur Kirkland ex-only child and now unrequited lover of Francis? What else didn't they know about their golden boy?

Alfred could only stare in mortification at the gleaming heaps of food that appeared. That's it. He was dead. He'd thought it couldn't get any worse than having his ass kicked. He had been wrong.

"So you hate Arthur, too?" Peter asked him suddenly, and he blinked out of his daze.

"What? No, he's awesome! I just..." Alfred swallowed heavily. "I'm an idiot."

"What was that about, Al?" Matthew asked, looking genuinely concerned. "You wouldn't try to sabotage Arthur like that."

"It's a long story. I really don't feel like talking about it." Alfred grabbed a fork and began to overload his plate, determined to ignore the many eyes on him. Gilbert was right. Now everybody was curious. He hadn't realized he'd miss the anonymity of his Hufflepuff name before this.

"Well, I think it's pretty funny." Peter chimed with his cheeks stuffed like chipmunks.

Alfred, Matthew, and Lizzy all looked at him incredulously. That was cold-blooded for an eleven year old... sorted into Hufflepuff no less.

"Times are changing," Lizzy muttered under her breath, but Alfred didn't miss the way her eyes returned to the Gryffindor table. He wondered why she was suddenly so interested in Beilschmidt.

"Why's it funny?" Alfred asked defensively, shoving down a forkful of turkey.

"Arthur's a jerk." Peter said matter-o-factly. Matthew actually snorted into his goblet.

"Shut up," Alfred gave him the stink eye before turning his attention back to Peter. "Come on, you have to at least like him a little. He's your brother for god's sake."

"Half-brother," Peter corrected, setting his fork down suddenly. He kneaded his knuckles against the table. "Ask him. He'll tell you I'm no brother of his. Eyebrows jerk."

Alfred blinked. "Half-brother? Are your parents-

"Same dad," Peter interrupted, taking up his fork again and seeming unbothered. "Different mum. Dad's still married to Arthur's mum. He had a... what'sit? An affection... affeeling... aff-

"Affair?" Matthew provided quietly.

"Ringer," Peter tapped his plate with his fork. "It bothers him, so he says I'm not his brother. He can say what he wants about it. I'm just glad I'm not in his House. Can you imagine being in Gryffindor?" He shuddered.

Matthew and Alfred exchanged looks. Who was this kid? The other first year Hufflepuffs were looking slightly daunted as well. From what Alfred could tell, Peter was a lot different than Arthur. Yet he had the same bizarre brand of charisma that made everyone think twice about contradicting him. It was too disconcerting to allow this to continue.

Before Peter could bite into it, Alfred snatched his bread roll from his hands.

"Hey!" Peter called out. "What are you doing?"

Alfred took a large bite and plopped the roll back on his plate. "Initiation," he said with his mouth full. "Welcome to Hufflepuff, mini Arthur."

Instead of getting upset like Alfred expected, Peter lit up. "This House is really cool, right?"

"The best." Alfred nodded stoically.

"And you have to be pretty popular to land one on Arthur like that!"

"Ehh, yeah," Alfred squinted. "Yeah, I guess I'm pretty popular." Matthew said nothing, but the humored look on his face was enough.

"You're so crazy!" Peter laughed. "Are you going to enter the Tournament? You have to!"

"Well, I'm trying to save a bit of glory for everybody else." Alfred began, determinedly ignoring Matthew and Lizzy. Even Ned was giving him a stink eye.

"Do you play Quidditch?" Peter asked suddenly, leaning forward so that his chest was pressed against Alfred's shoulder.

"Take it easy there. Wouldn't want to seem like an overeager firstie," Alfred said, though he straightened up proudly. "Of course, I play Quidditch. What kind of wizard would I be if I didn't?"

"A better one probably," Matthew noted.

"Smarter," Lizzy swung her fork around.

"You would've hit your head less times," Toris murmured unhelpfully.

"Might not have lost so much money on bets." Ned chimed in.

"So a better one, then." Matthew smirked, but Alfred pretended he hadn't heard. Peter seemed to have completely disregarded them too.

"What position? What position?"

Their conversation helped erase any thoughts of Arthur from his mind. He'd never had anybody look up to him like this, and it felt pretty kickass. A little skin off Arthur's nose might have been the best thing to happen to him. As he left the Great Hall that day Peter bouncing at his heels, he was surprised to hear his name being passed around a group of Ravenclaws. All sorts of students were watching him. Even the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons kids turned their heads when he walked by.

Maybe this wasn't such a big deal. Arthur could take a little public trashing. Everybody at Hogwarts did at some point. It would blow over. People would go back to loving Arthur. Right now Alfred could ride this strange wave of popularity. Even if it was straight to the Headmaster's office.

He felt a hand grab him by the elbow and his heart stopped. He turned around, expecting to find McGonagall or another professor. Instead he stood face to face with Francis Bonnefoy, a boy who potentially didn't even know he existed until today.

"Alfred," Francis said, his voice heavily accented. He smiled tightly, and Alfred saw the strain in his eyes. He hadn't thought about how this could embarrass Francis too. What was he trying to do? Start a war with all of Hogwarts best? He didn't stand a chance. "May I speak with you one moment?"

It was under the guise of being optional, but Francis' grip was like iron. He tugged Alfred down an abandoned corridor and straight into an empty classroom. He thrust Alfred towards the desks and closed the door softly behind them.

"Now, I must ask," Francis began, turning quietly towards him. Still with that same smile, but something about it was horribly off. "Where did you come by such precious information?"

"I didn't... Arthur gave-

"How did you know about the prefect's bathroom?"

Here, Alfred's eyes bulged. "I didn't. I swear. Gilbert-

"You can tell me if you were there," Francis snipped dismissively. "I do not mind watchers, but Arthur would say otherwise."

Alfred nearly gagged. "I wasn't watching you guys do... do whatever! That was Arthur's letter and Gilbert charmed it into a Howler! I was supposed to bring it to you."

"Arthur's letter?" Francis snorted. "You're a Hufflepuff. Don't try and trick me. You and Gilbert made it up, and it was so very funny. Didn't you see me laughing?"

Alfred flinched. "I was a little busy. Look, I'm sorry about embarrassing you like that. It wasn't really my fault though! Gilbert-

"Is a first class bastard, I'm aware." Francis exhaled through his nose. "You both have extraordinary timing. Let me say it. You couldn't have picked a better night."

Alfred thought about Peter, and Arthur's absence from the Sorting. True, most people didn't know Peter's real relationship to Arthur, but if the Hogwarts rumor mill had any say, everyone would know by breakfast tomorrow. Now, he and Gilbert had single-handedly unleashed another of Arthur's secrets on the population on the same day. Perhaps it was a little too cruel.

Alfred sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I didn't mean to hurt him." As soon as he said the words, he reddened in embarrassment. The last person he needed to be bearing his feelings to was Francis freaking Bonnefoy.

Francis' expression flittered weirdly between confusion and disbelief, before he shrugged. "I don't think you meant to. And I don't have to do anything to punish you for it. When Arthur gets his feet under him, you'll wish you were in the Tournament maze." Turning abruptly, he started to push open the door. "Oh and Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell _mon petit_ Arthur that I'd much rather fuck a chubby fourth year Hufflepuff than see him at my door ever again." He smiled as he said it and Alfred stiffened defensively.

"It's muscle!"

Francis actually laughed, leaving him alone in the classroom with his thoughts. Weird. That was a weird conversation. He'd have to ask Matthew a bit more about Francis. He left the room feeling like all he wanted to do was sleep. Classes started tomorrow. He didn't even know his schedule, and he only had about half of his books. Alfred wandered bleary-eyed in the general direction of the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room.

Man, that feast food was really starting to hit him. He yawned. He hadn't even eaten that much, too distracted by Peter and Arthur and everything. That had to be his most eventful Hogwarts entry to date, hands down. He was just about to round the corner when he noticed someone talking to a house elf in front of the portrait that led to the kitchens.

He wiped at his sleepy eyes, slowing to a halt. No way. Carefully, he ducked back around the corner, determined not to be seen this time. He'd already had to deal with Francis. For once in his life, the last person he wanted to meet was Arthur Kirkland. The portraits around him started to ask him what he was doing.

"Is it Peeves?" whispered a lady in a gorgeous ball gown.

The portrait across from her, a scruffy bearded gentleman glared, "Don't say his name, Misandra! Speak of the devil."

"Oh, you're all being silly," retorted a monk a few paintings higher. "Especially you, Hufflepuff. What _are_ you hiding from?"

Alfred scowled. For some reason, the portraits loved to converse with him. Really, they loved conversing with any student who gave them the time of day. The life of a portrait could be dreadfully dull. Alfred always felt sorry for the poor fellows that got hung in direct sunlight. But portraits enjoyed calling out particularly to Alfred. He must've had a friendly face, or something. Curse it, whatever it was.

"Sssh, be quiet," He hissed at them. "Arthur Kirkland is over there."

"Be quiet he says," sniffed the gentleman. "Not a please in sight."

"Please," Alfred muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to listen, Cadfury. Is that so hard to understand?"

The gentleman fell to muttering, but Alfred was able to ignore him. The house elf Arthur was talking to had returned from the kitchens with an armload of provisions which it handed off to Arthur. Arthur sagged under the sheer weight of them.

"Thank you, Delfie," Arthur was saying in a rather stopped up voice. It was the first time Alfred had ever heard Arthur thank anyone for anything.

"Is Delfie's pleasure, Master Arthur." Delfie bowed low in her baggy pillow case, her nose just brushing the ground. "Delfie shall always be glad to fill Master Arthur's belly when he is being hungry."

"Yes, you do a very good job," Arthur said with a warm grin. It lit up his features, making him seem suddenly boyish. Gryffindorish, Alfred realized with a jolt.

"Curfew is coming quickly, Master Arthur. Please be making haste," The house elf cautioned him. Alfred's mouth opened in surprise when Arthur actually laughed, dropping his index finger and twirling it lightly around Delfie's ear.

"Is Delfie being worried for Arthur?" He asked teasingly. "Such good motives Delfie has."

"Delfie shall be calling night patrol on Master Arthur if he is being still so naughty."

"Ahh," Arthur put his hand to his chest. "Well, Arthur had best be leaving. Else he will certainly face Delfie's deadly might."

"Peace," Delfie said, which had to be the house elf equivalent of 'shut up'. "Sleep well tonight, Master Arthur. There are those in the castle who gives their life for you."

Arthur exhaled loudly, but he didn't snap at her. "Goodnight, Delfie."

"Good dreams, Master Arthur." As Arthur turned to leave, Alfred jolted to see the tip of his nose and the whites of his eyes were red. He'd been crying.

Alfred barely had time to duck behind the tapestry before Arthur rounded the corner. Luckily, he was walking fast and didn't notice the pair of feet sticking out at the bottom. Alfred waited until he was far enough away to come out.

"Close one, Alfred." Cadfury quipped.

"All in good timing, Cad." Alfred shot back rounding the corner and beginning the walk to his common room again. He'd never heard Arthur speak to anybody like that, not even his Gryffindor pals. And his laugh! It was nothing like he'd thought. That gloating Quidditch winning laugh didn't sound anything like it. Even his smile had been completely different.

Alfred frowned, deciding that it bothered him more than anything. Why could Arthur talk so freely with house elves and not humans?


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Sorry for not updating this in... yikes like two months! School is going to be ending for me in a couple weeks, so hopefully I'll have more time over the summer.**

 **Thank you so so so much for all your reviews, follows, and favorites! You guys are so encouraging and it really is my pleasure to write for you.**

 **love you all, doze**

 **Also Technical Side note: Shelly=Seychelles (Gryffindor). And top shelf is a wonderful phrase. (Basically the best alcohol is kept on the top shelf.) What do you guys say? Let's bring the phrase back. ;)**

* * *

The next morning Matthew roused him for classes with an impatient, "You're going to be late."

Alfred growled under his breath, forcing himself into a sitting position. He always slept especially well on his first night back. The canopy beds at Hogwarts were so much more luxurious than his bed back in the States. They also felt so much more like home.

He got to his feet in search of a pair of not too wrinkly robes. Ned was busy charming his hair upwards and Toris was scrambling to look through all last year's Potions notes. Alfred didn't bother knotting his tie, throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and only giving his bedhead a cursory glance in Ned's mirror.

He ducked down the sloping hallway that always reminded him a little bit of the rounded architecture in Lord of the Rings. As a first year, he used to pretend that he was Frodo living in Hobbiton. It gave him plenty of excuse to stop by the kitchens for second breakfast.

Matthew was waiting for him in an armchair by the unlit fireplace. He gave a sigh. "I thought this year was the year, Al."

Alfred glanced down at his untied shoes and untucked shirt. "Eh, maybe next year."

Matthew laughed anyway, reaching out to do his tie for him. "How will you ever impress Arthur looking like this?"

"With my charm, obviously." He said, spotting Lizzie as she came out of the girl's side. "A little help?" He called and she tapped him on his head with her wand without breaking pace.

"Thanks," He shouted after her retreating back, reaching up to touch his magically combed hair. Every piece was in more or less perfect alignment, except for the damned cowlick.

Together, he and Matthew made their way leisurely to the dining hall. Things were just beginning to feel right again. All around him the castle echoed with the sounds of students, laughing and shouting and filling Hogwarts up like a well. They took the places they'd been sitting in for four years now, Matthew passing him the bacon without a word.

"So what's first?" He asked around a mouthful of oatmeal.

"Potions, Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures for you." Matthew rattled off dousing his pancakes in a generous stream of maple syrup.

Alfred blinked. "Whoa, wait. Six classes? In one day?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow at him. "We did have to take on two electives, remember?" When Alfred continued to stare, he sighed. "Six classes meet three times a week. Three classes meet two times a week. Tomorrow we only have three classes. Did you even pay attention to the presentation last year, Al?"

Alfred scowled, counting them on his fingers. "Matt, that's worse than muggle university. Nine classes?!"

Matthew just shook his head, shoving half a pancake in his mouth. "Take it up with the teachers."

Alfred grumbled that he _would_ take it up with the teachers if he happened to magically find the time. Their increasing class load may not have bothered Matthew or Kiku. They were brilliant. Sometimes it took Alfred an hour to get through one page of the Potions textbook. Nine classes and all the required homework, not to mention the supplementary tutoring... well, it'd be a wonder if he saw the sun again before the end of term in June.

"Alfred!"

Alfred turned to see Peter, looking like a model first year, a big smile to boot. He dropped his shiny new textbooks in the place next to Alfred, looking gleefully at the breakfast spread.

"Hey, Peter." Alfred said. "How's your first day?"

"Tremendous. Top shelf." Peter shot back, nearly spilling the orange juice because the jug was too heavy for him. Matthew spelled it to pour on its own and Peter grinned gratefully.

"Top shelf?" Alfred asked, befuddled.

"It's stuck up nerd for damn awesome."

Someone slapped Alfred on the back and he turned to glare at the unwanted intruder to his homey Hufflepuff breakfast. "What do you want, Gilbert?"

"Arthur used to talk like that, too." Gilbert continued, snagging a Danish and using Alfred as a place to rest his elbow. "I 'accidentally' tripped him off the North Tower, though. He stopped."

"It's how Papa talks," Peter muttered defensively. "Stop bugging, Alfred."

"What are you talking about, firstie? Alfred and I are best pals."

Alfred scowled. Gilbert was getting crumbs in his hair, and Lizzy wasn't around to spell him clean again. "Seriously, man, what did you want?" He shoved Gilbert away, standing at the same time. It didn't really help, because he was only at eye level with Gilbert's chest.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Gilbert said in mock dismay. "Fourth floor trophy room. Midnight tonight. I wouldn't be late if I were you."

"Late for what?" Alfred challenged.

"Arthur wants to settle things," Gilbert flashed him a smile and vanished into the breakfast crowd with a wiggle of his fingers.

Alfred's heart dropped strangely. "Shit." He muttered.

Matthew only snorted into his goblet. "Gryffindors are the most dramatic people. It's like we're in a musical."

"Don't go, Alfred." Ned muttered in a dull voice. "He's just set up a place where he can curse you senseless without anyone finding out."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed weakly. "You're probably right."

Peter laughed, "That snowman kid is funny."

"Snowman?" Alfred asked.

Matthew snorted again, standing and throwing his rucksack over his shoulder. "I'd be careful around him if I were you, Peter. Gilbert is an idiot, but he knows how to use a wand. It's not worth getting tangled up with them." At this, he shot Alfred a meaningful look. "Well, come on, we have Potions."

0 0 0

Luckily, they mainly focused on theory in their classes today. Alfred's head was swimming too much to be of any use.

Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would drop in and out of their classes like spies, whispering to each other and laughing sometimes. Alfred wondered if they had any formal classes they had to attend and where they were staying and what they planned on doing the whole month before the ceremony to choose the Tournament competitors.

All the seventh years were acting funny in the corridors. Like they were campaigning almost. It was amusing because ultimately the Goblet of Fire would choose. It wasn't a popularity contest. Though, if it had been, every seventh year in the school paled to Arthur Kirkland.

By lunchtime, it was common knowledge that Arthur's father (descendant of a very old, very respected pureblood family) had had an affair. With a bartender from the Leaky Cauldron no less. Alfred found himself worried about Peter, but the little guy only seemed to love the attention. He was standing on one of the benches between classes giving a lecture on the event and answering questions. Overall, he was taking it much better than Arthur.

Alfred had only seen Arthur twice in the corridors that day, and both times he had wished he knew a good invisibility spell. No one dared ask Arthur about his involvement with Francis when he had such an expression on his face and when he carried his wand out like that. But there were other idiots, who shouted across the way, "You gunna enter for the Tournament, Arthur?"

It only took Alfred a couple times of this happening to realize that Arthur hated the question.

Instead of eating in the Great Hall, many students were sprawled out in the courtyard. Alfred sat with Matthew per usual, but his eyes were on the knot of Gryffindor sixth years.

"You gunna enter for the Tournament, Arthur?"

Arthur clutched his barely touched corn beef sandwich a little tighter, jerking one shoulder up. "I'm too young. Besides, I can't wait to see the Hogwarts idiot that does get killed by the dragon this year."

A smatter of lazy laughs drifted across the fall air.

"You shouldn't talk like that. That's horrid." A girl near Arthur gave him a disgusted look. "What if somebody does die?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but one of his entourage did instead. "Shut up, Shelly. Arthur'd never die if he was in the Tournament anyway. It's been years since the last Hogwarts champion croaked."

"I'm not entering the Tournament." Arthur repeated, dropping his corn beef in the grass and standing.

"Are you just going to leave that there?" said the same girl, Shelly, with an unimpressed look on her face.

"Somebody else'll get it." Arthur said like it hadn't even occurred to him to clean up his mess.

"Why is that necessary?" She continued to nag. "You've got two perfectly good legs yourself."

"So does somebody else." Arthur threw over his shoulder as he walked away. The other Gryffindor sixth years scrambled to keep up, except for the girl who wrinkled her nose and Vanished Arthur's half eaten sandwich.

"Slob." She muttered in a long suffering way.

Alfred continued to watch her curiously until she noticed him staring. He looked away quick enough that Matthew said, "What?" and then, "Who's that girl coming this way?"

"Are you Alfred?"

Alfred had to squint up against the sun to see her standing above him. "Uh, yeah."

She pointed her wand at him and he raised both his hands. Anyone that could get away with nagging Arthur like that was no one that he wanted to mess with. "I should jinx you," Shelly said angrily. "That was a very cruel joke you played."

Alfred flinched when he realized she meant the Howler. "It was Gilbert," he muttered uselessly. "He just stuck it on me, I swear. I wouldn't embarrass Arthur like that. It's not my style."

Shelly frowned, tugging her lower lip up between her teeth. Her wand didn't move. "What's your style then?"

"Second breakfast and Remedial Potions," He said and jumped in surprise when she laughed.

Shelly flung her wand up her sleeve, crouching to sit with the two of them. "I'm Shelly." She introduced herself. The Gryffindor emblem on her robe seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"Matthew," Matthew said when she looked at him. "You're friends with Francis?"

"And Arthur?" Alfred added curiously.

"Something like that." She wrinkled her nose. "Arthur mostly just ignores me, and Francis just likes doing my hair."

Alfred snorted, grunting when Matthew elbowed him in the side.

"Who are you two?" She said sounding genuinely curious. Her eyes traced over Alfred again. "Everyone has been talking about Alfred, how you're friends with Gilbert. Enemies with Arthur and Francis? Hero to Peter?"

Alfred opened and closed his mouth dumbly. "Uh, I think it was an accident honestly. I'm..." He blushed. "I'm not popular like that."

Her sweet smile returned. "Maybe you _weren't_ popular like that. But I think the boys are going to have a war over you soon enough."

Alfred blinked, glancing at Matthew who only shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"Arthur basically put a price on your head in the common room last night," She stifled a giggle at Alfred's horrified expression. Well, it explained why all the Gryffindors were glaring at him recently. "Gilbert defended you."

"He did what?" Matthew and Alfred both said it together.

"Well, kind of," She amended. "As much as he does, anyway. He told Arthur he was an idiot for giving you the letter in the first place. That you tried to stop it from happening. Of course, Arthur's already furious with Gilbert. I don't know if they've spoken since then." She laid back lazily in the grass. "And Francis is going to be your Potions tutor."

"He is?" Alfred gaped.

"He hasn't told you yet?" Shelly smirked. "Isn't that funny? I'll bet he doesn't know what to say to you. He always knows what to say."

"Oh, awesome." Alfred said weakly, spotting Peter waving enthusiastically to him from across the courtyard. "I've got to go. I have Care of Magical Creatures."

Matthew stood too. "And I've got Divination."

Shelly stayed sitting on the grass, for a minute just watching them.

"What?" Alfred asked uncomfortably.

She shook her head, getting to her feet too. "Nothing. I just think some new faces could be good." Shelly paused, biting her lip to hold back a smile. "For both of my boys." Without elaborating, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Matthew and Alfred glancing at each other uncertainly.

"That was a weird conversation, right?" Alfred asked, before he took off for the Forbidden Forest. He felt like he was beginning to lose his ability to tell what was weird and what wasn't.

"No, you're right." Matthew shook his head with an almost laugh. "This I why I told you not to get involved with Gryffindors."

0 0 0

Care of Magical Creatures was Alfred's second favorite class for a reason (Behind Defense of course). He was good with creatures. You wouldn't think it to look at him. He was loud and boisterous and it would seem that he shouldn't be able to interact with the more delicate ones. But it just wasn't the truth. Magical creatures trusted Alfred. And for the most part, he trusted them.

It was his second year taking the class. As he stepped out onto the wide expanse of lawn before the forest, he took a deep breath. His heart skipped a little bit when he spotted the silhouettes of several hippogriffs from this distance. Excellent. He'd really missed flying over the summer and he hadn't had a chance to get on his broom yet.

Alfred broke into a jog, eager to see the professor and eager to find his favorite hippogriff from last year. It was still early so maybe he would get a few minutes with the creatures by himself. He slowed to halt though, when he was close enough to make out that his professor wasn't alone.

"Arthur, lead those two over that way and tie them to some sturdy trees. We don't want them all bunched together."  
"Yes, professor," Arthur answered, grabbing hold of the ropes tied to their muzzles. He was bereft of his flowing Gryffindor robes out of a safety precaution. The gray Gryffindor sweater trimmed in red and gold fit him snugly like maybe it was last year's shirt and he hadn't gotten around to buying a new one.

Of course, Alfred knew that professors sometimes asked older students to help with their classes. But he hadn't expected his Magical Creatures professor to be one of them. He was a rugged guy who rarely sought assistance from anybody. The fact that he had sought it from Arthur (and not from Alfred) felt a bit like a slap in the face. Many times he had been near certain that he was the Magical Creatures professor's favorite student. Apparently not. Damn Arthur Kirkland had them all in the palm of his hand.

"Alfred!" His professor called, jolting him out of his thoughts. "Excellent. Why don't you come over and help Arthur with the last two?"

Arthur had whirled around, actually letting go of the ropes. It was an idiotic move, Alfred thought. But the hippogriffs seemed at ease in Arthur's presence and neither of them made to escape.

Without looking at him, Alfred dumped his robes and rucksack in a heap in the grass. He could feel Arthur's eyes on him, but he ignored it. The final two hippogriffs were tied to spikes in the ground and they blinked at him silently. Alfred knew he didn't technically have to bow. They recognized him from last year and all the times he'd stayed after class just to scratch their necks in the right places. But he did bow, with a flourish, throwing his arms behind him like a stage performer.

It was a bit much, but... Alfred raised his head and smiled when both the hippogriffs bowed in return, spreading their wings out like he had spread his arms. Making them look even cooler.

"Come on, guys," He murmured affectionately, bumping one of them playfully with his shoulder as he untied it. "Long time no see, Chub Rooney. You're looking well fed as ever. Dastardly Daniel, you're regal as a king. Those colors have really come in strong."  
As he turned to lead them to the trees, he found Arthur still standing in the same spot with his mouth open slightly.

Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

Arthur's scowl snapped back into place and he turned angrily.

Alfred shrugged, ignoring the niggling guilt he felt over it. Arthur had a good reason to be angry, but he was feeling less magnanimous about recognizing it now that he knew Arthur had stolen his favorite professor from him.

"Dastardly as ever Daniel," Alfred spoke calmly as he tied the hippogriff to a tree on the edge of the forest. "Now, don't give me that look. You'll be right next to Chub Rooney. I know you guys are partners in crime."

"They have proper names, you know."

Alfred looked up to see Arthur coming towards him hands in his pockets. They were too far away for the professor to hear them talking and he was too busy anyway, greeting the arriving students.

Alfred didn't exactly know what to say, so he just shrugged roughly. "They're nicknames."  
"They're insulting," Arthur said with a curl of his lip. "These creatures could tear you apart in a matter of seconds. It's bloody stupid to go making fun of them like that, but by all means, I'd love to see it when one of them gets you."

Alfred felt a surge of anger rush through him. Arthur didn't understand. He was friends with these hippogriffs. Of course, they wouldn't mind him teasing them.

"What are you even doing here?" He said gruffly. "I thought you'd assist with Charms or something."

Arthur's face reddened, but he only clenched his teeth. "Do refrain from making judgments about my character. You don't know me at all."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Top shelf." He said because Gilbert was right. Arthur did speak funny. He began walking towards his class. He only got two steps before Arthur hit him with a trip jinx and he was eating the dirt.

Growling, Alfred turned onto his back to look up at his Quidditch hero. It really sucked that Arthur was so pissed at him. He _liked_ Arthur. He'd been trying to get Arthur to notice him for ages. "Would it help if I said I was sorry?" Alfred muttered.

"You're not." Arthur said coldly.

"How could you know that?" Alfred whined. "God, I just wanted you to like me. Gilbert screwed me over."

Arthur came to stand over him, looking stormy. "We'll settle this tonight. For now, don't talk to me, Alex."

"Alfred!" Alfred shouted from the ground as Arthur walked away. "It's Alfred, for god's sake!"

For the rest of Care of Magical Creatures, Alfred stayed as far away from Arthur as possible. That didn't keep him from watching though. He understood why his professor liked Arthur now. Arthur was good with the animals in the exact opposite way that Alfred was good with the animals. He spoke to them quietly. He calmed many a hippogriff before it slashed off a student's face. Strangely, none of Arthur's regular arrogance made an appearance. Any time he touched one of the animals it was with such fervent respect that Alfred actually felt embarrassed for his own cavalier attitude.

He stood next to Chub Rooney after their flight time, twisting his hand through Chub's feathers. The truth was he didn't actually remember Chub's real name. Or any of the hippogriff's real names. There was Clarence Casper and Eels McGee, Trevor and Frodo, Blitz, and Barry Briansfield. Now that he thought about it, the names were kind of stupid. Maybe Arthur was right. He was disrespectful.

Alfred looked uncertainly back at Chub, who nudged him with his beak looking for more attention. "Chub." He said and the hippogriff met his gaze with a big watery black eye. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Alfred, Arthur, stay behind a minute. I need you to help me lead them back." Their professor shouted out across the lawn.

Arthur seemed irritated that Alfred was asked to stay behind too. Which Alfred could understand as Arthur was the aide and Alfred was actually in the class. Nonetheless, the two of them made short work of putting the hippogriffs back where they belonged. He lead Chub Rooney back last of all, glancing quickly over his shoulder to make sure Arthur wasn't looking before throwing his arms around Chub's neck.

"We'll go flying again sometime," He whispered breathlessly.

Chub usually didn't make any noise, but at this he trumped loudly, fanning his feathers and nearly bursting Alfred's ear drums.

"What are-

He heard Arthur's voice and leapt away from the hippogriff like it was made of hot coal. Arthur had looked ready to rush in and calm the thing, but he fell back now, upon seeing that the hippogriff wasn't actually upset. Chub inclined its head towards Arthur before making a cawing noise at Alfred.

"Bastard," Alfred shot back at him. "I'd do it right back if I could make a noise that loud. Last time I ever give you any neck rubs." But even as he said it, he reached out and scratched Chub's neck with a bemused grin.

Arthur still stood in the doorway to the shed. He was more rumpled now than at the beginning of the class. Sweaty from running around and keeping idiotic fourth years from killing themselves. He'd shoved his sleeves sloppily up to his elbows. His nice loafers were scuffed and dirty and the slightly too small sweater would slip up sometimes to show his bare waist.

Alfred slowly walked past him, almost expecting to be attacked again or at least tripped. But Arthur did nothing, merely locked the shed behind him.

"Midnight," was all he said. "Don't forget."  
Alfred threw his robes over his shoulder, watching Arthur do the same. "Should I bring my wand?" He asked.

Arthur looked at him for a long moment. He seemed tired then, like Alfred was entirely too much effort for him. "Jesus, Alex, you go places without your wand?"

"Alfred," Alfred said irritably. "I meant should I expect to use my wand?"

Arthur sneered. "You should expect to try." And then he walked away.

0 0 0

Once back up at the castle, Alfred had hardly walked into the dining hall for dinner when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ah, Alfred," crooned a familiar voice. "There are things that we must discuss."

Alfred turned to look at Francis reluctantly.

"Come sit with me." The older boy said with no room for argument.

Alfred found himself shuttered in by a crowd of Ravenclaw sixth years. Kiku looked at him curiously from farther down, but he only shrugged helplessly. He was the only yellow in a sea of purple.

"I'm going to be your Potions tutor." Francis announced regally, pouring Alfred a glass of pumpkin juice like a gracious host. Alfred was pretty sure that the Bonnefoys were an old wizarding family too. At least, Francis had the manners of one.

"That's great." Alfred said, feeling too worn out to manufacture enthusiasm. His bag was heavy with all the homework he would need to do tonight. At least, he only had three classes tomorrow. Not to mention, he was probably going to be out getting his ass kicked at midnight or some other ungodly hour.

"We'll have to design a schedule for the rest of the year," Francis informed him, taking Alfred's plate and filling that up too. Alfred decided to just let him go. "I am least busy on Tuesdays and Thursdays any time in the afternoon. Would that work for you?"

"Eh," Alfred glanced back at the Hufflepuff table. "I have to ask Matthew what our schedule is."

Francis blinked.

"He keeps track of it," Alfred explained, face going red. He really should look after his own schedule now that he was fourteen, but Matthew had been keeping him on track since first year. Matthew didn't seem to mind either. They functioned like a well-oiled unit this way. Even now, he could see Matthew looking about in confusion since Alfred wasn't at the Hufflepuff table.

"I see," Francis said, and Alfred thought Francis's eyes found Matthew pretty quickly. Like he knew exactly where to look. "Well, the sooner we can come up with a time, the better. I have to okay it with the Potions Master."

"Okay, I'll tell you tomorrow." Alfred started to say, but was interrupted when something hard and pointy jammed into the back of his head. "Ow, watch where you're..." He cut off when he saw Arthur standing behind him, hair wet from a shower and in a fresh set of robes. The scent of his cologne was nearly overpowering. And his wand dug into the back of Alfred's head.

"Arthur," Francis said sourly. He tipped his head up slightly, looking down his nose. Alfred noticed that Arthur did the same. "Is there a reason we have the pleasure of your company?"

"You don't belong here." Arthur jabbed his wand just a little bit harder into Alfred's skull. "I don't need you consorting with my enemies."

Francis snorted, "Oh please, Arthur. Enemies? I was under the impression that you-

"Shut up, frog." Arthur snarled. "Get back to your table, Alex. Or you'll regret it."

"Alright, alright, I am." Alfred shoved Arthur's wand away. "He was just telling me he was my Potions tutor. No need to swing that thing around." A couple of the Ravenclaws snickered at Alfred's remark, making him feel strange. He was used to being the center of attention back home in his muggle neighborhood, but at some point after entering Hogwarts and getting placed in Hufflepuff he realized he wasn't all that impressive to the magical world. What had changed?

"Now boys," Shelly bounced over from the Gryffindor table, grabbing Arthur by his wand hand. "The professors are watching. Wouldn't want another scene." She smiled tightly at him using all her force to make Arthur lower his hand. "The Headmaster is already embarrassed by your love letter debacle. All of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons saw it. I think you'll all land up in his office for another infraction."

Arthur scowled angrily at her, shaking her off. "Fuck off, Shelly." He snarled. "If I'd wanted my mother along, I would have packed her."

"Likewise," Francis said, giving her an irritated glare. They both looked at Alfred like they expected him to agree.

"Uh, she's kinda right, you guys." Alfred shot Shelly a sheepish smile and she beamed at him. "If you want, Francis could join us for our duel at midnight. Might be emotionally therapeutic."

Once again the nearby Ravenclaws snickered, this time along with Shelly, who ditched Arthur to loop her arm through Alfred's.

Arthur scowled. "Wait. No. You're not invited." He turned on Francis, jabbing his wand into the Ravenclaw boy's chest.

Francis's smirk deepened. "You and Alfred have plans for midnight? What a fast rebound. I don't know if I can let myself be forgotten that quickly."

" _Fuck_ off. If you show up, you'll regret it." Arthur's dangerous green eyes hardened.

"And who's going to stop me from doing that? Hmm?" Francis openly smiled.

"Trophy room fourth floor. Midnight." Alfred said quickly, taking Shelly by the arm and making a run for it. She burst into laughter, swinging off his elbow. At least if Francis showed up, Arthur might have too many targets to hit.

"Where have you been all this time?" Shelly asked him breathlessly as they stopped in front of the staircase.

"Here." Alfred said, shaking his head. "I've always been here."  
"Well, it seems like they've only just discovered you," She teased brightly. "I don't think you have a hope of ever fading into the background again."  
"Glory Hallelujah." Alfred said flatly and she laughed again. He was struck by how absolutely astonishingly gorgeous she was. And how she absolutely shouldn't be talking to a muggleborn dweeb like him.

Shelly cocked her head and granted him a warm smile. "See you around, Alfred. Don't be a stranger."

He nodded and once she was gone, he started to make his way back to his common room. Now, all that remained on the day's agenda was midnight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello guys!**

 **I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Hopefully, over the summer I can dedicate a little more time to it. All your support is much appreciated!**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

"Alfred, you're not going," Matthew said definitively, from his spot by the fireplace in the common room. His Hufflepuff robes flowed around him in a sea of black as he bent to squint at his Charms textbook.

"Well, you know if he doesn't go, one of the Gryffindors will definitely take Alfred out for the glory of it," Liz pointed out, licking on the end of a sugar quill. Her Potions book was upside down, and she'd obviously given up long ago.

"Why is Arthur even still angry at him?" Toris pointed out as he unrolled a length of parchment. "It was Gilbert that charmed the letter."

Ned snorted, "That doesn't matter to Arthur. It's Alfred's fault by the very nature that Alfred was there. Plus, it's less working knocking off some random fourth year Hufflepuff, than Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"You're saying Arthur couldn't take Gilbert?" Toris raised his eyebrows.

Ned shrugged. "I'm not saying anything. All that's important is that Alfred cannot take Arthur."

"Come on, Tor. Gilbert would spell the shit out of Arthur without losing his breath," Liz added with a giggle, glancing at Alfred. " _Fame isn't everything."_ She said in a mock drawling voice that they'd all heard too often.

Alfred groaned, throwing down his Potions text with Liz's on the rug. "Look, I'll be careful, alright? I'm going to try and talk to him-

"Oh for god's sake, Alfred. Don't try that." Matthew rolled his eyes. "He doesn't want to talk. He just wants a punching bag. Think about it. His bastard of a brother shows up and embarrasses him. And we all got an insider look at his love life. You just conveniently happened to be at the crossroads. Congratulations, Alfred. Let it die. He can't do anything to you in broad daylight. Don't go tonight."

Alfred frowned. Geez, Mattie had gotten bossier over the summer. "Okay, okay, I won't." He muttered. "I'm going to bed now. Like a good lad. You can walk me up if you feel the need, Matt."

Ned snickered, but Matthew was not amused. Instead of yelling, he drew his textbook up more firmly on his lap. They were best friends and Alfred recognized signs of the silent treatment from leagues away. He groaned again. He didn't have time to be worrying about Matthew. Not when he needed to worry about how he was going to sneak out at midnight.

It proved simpler than he expected. Almost everyone went to bed early after the first day. As he crept past Matthew's bed, he felt a bit bad for lying to him, but not bad enough to go back to sleep. Matthew just didn't understand this part of him. Alfred had always wanted to be in the mix, playing with the big boys so to speak. He wasn't alright with being just another Hufflepuff lost to the shadows of great Gryffindors.

He had a chance now. Arthur knew who he was. Sort of. He'd make it work.

The corridors of Hogwarts after dark loomed before him. The silence was so loud it hurt his ears. Getting to the fourth floor was its own adventure. Numerous times Alfred almost stepped into empty space when one of the staircases moved. He used Lumos when he had to, but preferred to keep it out. He had no idea who else lurked these hallways at night.

It took him awhile to find the trophy room, and when he had he didn't immediately enter. His Lumos spelled glowed a bit brighter as his heart beat picked up. If Arthur just started throwing spells at him, he was dead, no question. He could only remember like one offensive spell right now. God, he was screwed.

Alfred put his hand against the door and slowly let himself in. It quickly became apparent that there was no one else in the room. He relaxed a little bit. Not here yet. Awesome.

For awhile, he just shifted from foot to foot, glancing around at the shelves of trophies and plaques. Trophies for Quidditch and the House Cup and random student awards. Slowly, Alfred began making a circle of the room, stopping before an ornate silver plaque near the back. It was bigger than a lot of the others, but this wasn't what caught his attention. The words Triwizard Tournament leapt out at him like they were magic, and he paused to read the inscription.

 _In Memoriam:_

 _Arthur Robert Kirkland (1936-1953)_

 _Hogwarts Champion. Triwizard Tournament._

 _Bibere venenum in auro._

Alfred whispered the last words, his eyes wide. At first, it didn't make sense to him. Arthur Kirkland? But then he remembered Arthur hailed from a long line of purebloods. This dude must have been someone Arthur was related to. And he died? In the Triwizard Tournament?

"Fuck," Alfred murmured, with a shake of his head. At the same time, he felt something pointy jab into the back of his neck.

"Did you remember your wand?"

In the reflection off the plaque, Alfred could see Arthur sneering at him, wand denting into the back of his neck.

"Actually, I did." He answered. "But I don't really want to use it."

"Oh, should I be afraid?" Arthur gave a mocking laugh. It was hard and nasty and not at all like the one he had graced upon Delfie the house elf. "Have you been hiding brilliance beyond that wall of idiocy?"

Alfred scowled. "Look, if it'll make you feel better just get on with it."

"We'll do this correctly," Arthur pulled back from him and he turned around warily. "Come on. In the center of the room. You've been to dueling club, haven't you?"

Alfred gave Arthur an incredulous look. For a minute he was thrown by the fact that the other boy was in his pajamas, his Gryffindor robes draped sloppily on top. So Arthur slept in silk. He even had an embroidered 'A' on the chest pocket. Alfred nearly grinned. What a pureblood.

"You really want to have a duel?" He asked.

"The perfect way to settle this," Arthur motioned for him to stand in the center of the room.

"You didn't seem like you were a fair and square type of dude," Alfred reluctantly drew his wand. "I thought you'd just jinx me silly and we could go back to bed. You know, it might be faster that way."

Nonetheless, Alfred's breath still caught when he felt Arthur's back pressed against his. They faced opposite sides of the room. Alfred knew the rules well enough. Ten paces. Turn. Wand at the ready. Arthur would undoubtedly strike first.

"This is tradition," Arthur said like he was an idiot. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but this way I can still kick your arse under the guise of being poised."

"Wow," Alfred said with feeling. "I'm so lucky."

"I'll make it quick." Arthur replied nastily. Reluctantly, Alfred stepped away from him, following his count of ten paces, before turning.

Arthur had his wand raised, but he hadn't said a spell yet, waiting. "Go on." He snapped impatiently. "You first."  
Alfred's eyes bulged. "What? Are we taking turns?"

To his astonishment, Arthur's cheeks flamed red. Alfred didn't hear him speak, but suddenly he was thrown across the room, landing on his ass with a giant bang as he slid into the trophy cabinet. "Alright then," Alfred muttered, casting about for his wand. "You can go first."

When he found it, he got shakily to his feet. The spell had only thrown him, apparently it hadn't had another purpose. Arthur was still standing with his wand raised imperiously, a snarl curling his upper lip.

Alfred sighed, sliding his wand back up his sleeve. Matthew was right.

"What are you doing?" Arthur said icily.

"Go on, then." Alfred shifted uncomfortably. "Whatever you want. I'll be your punching bag."

"My what?"

Alfred groaned. Purebloods. "Think about it. It makes sense. Punching bag. A bag for punching."

"What the hell are you rambling on about?" Arthur snapped. "Get out your wand. I want to finish this."

"Then finish it." Alfred raised his hands up. "Shoot me, captain. You wanted someone to beat up on, right? Here I am. I won't tell."

"Wh-what?" Arthur's wand wavered. "Are you stupid?"

Alfred shrugged. "I'm sorry about what happened to you. I honest to god didn't mean to embarrass you like that. Go on. Just not the face, please."

"Y-you..." Arthur seemed at a loss for words. His cheeks went a harsh red that Alfred hadn't seen before tonight. Arthur was never embarrassed or caught out of sorts in the daylight. Abruptly, his green eyes hardened and he stepped forward, jamming his wand into Alfred's chest. "Francis put you up to this, didn't he?"

"What?" Alfred scowled at the mention of Bonnefoy.

"Oh, he never knows when to quit." Arthur snarled. He was close enough that Alfred could feel the heat of his breath. "I'll admit it's a good tactic. I almost let you go there. That's too much of a Ravenclaw move, Hufflepuff. _Petrificus Totalus._ " He growled with a nasty grin that tore up his handsome features. Alfred had never seen him look this vindictive in public before. He felt his legs snap together from the curse and to his chagrin he realized that he didn't know how to get it undone.

With a theatric flip of his hand, Arthur put his palm to Alfred's chest and made a show of pushing him over. And damn it hurt. A lot. Alfred stared angrily at Arthur's stocking feet from the floor, wishing that he'd taken Mattie's advice after all. Arthur didn't even believe his apology.

"Now," Arthur began in a loud drawling voice, placing his foot over Alfred's mouth. "Let the record show that I did give you a fair duel. You brought this on yourself." Arthur twisted his foot into Alfred's mouth, making it impossible for him to breathe anything but Arthur's stinky sock.

Well, this sucked.

Arthur pushed him away, striding back and forth in front of him like some sort of royalty. He really seemed to be getting a kick out of this. The next thing Alfred knew, Arthur had hit him with a stinging hex and it burned its way all up his arm like a hoard of angry ants.

"Last time you ever laugh at me again," He said with a triumphant pump of his fist, his robes flowing out behind him. "Last time they ever laugh at me again. You'll be my demonstration, won't you, Alex? No one will ever laugh again."

At this rate, Alfred felt they would be here all night. Arthur covered him in stinging hexes and strange jinxes that made his stomach turn. It surprised him that Arthur didn't go for anything more than petty curses that were going to make him feel like hell tomorrow. Arthur was just opening his mouth for round two when something made him pause. His green eyes grew huge and he muttered, "Shit."

Just like that he turned on his heel, and Alfred heard the sound of people walking down the corridor outside. Fuck no was Arthur just going to leave him on the floor. It happened miraculously as so many things often did around Alfred. The paralysis curse lifted, fading away like a distant dream, just in time for him to snag his wand and aim a jinx at Arthur's back.

" _Rictusempra!_ " He hissed, causing Arthur to stumble to a halt.

He whirled around to face Alfred, clamping a hand over his mouth and shaking his head rapidly back and forth. So he knew it then. The tickling curse was one of Alfred's all time favorites. He watched as Arthur's knees turned to jelly, now two hands clamped over his mouth, trying desperately not to make any noise, his eyes watering. Outside the footsteps in the corridor were growing louder, coming closer.

Arthur removed one hand to flip him off angrily, but Alfred only shrugged. "Get us out of here without any trouble and I'll take it off. Otherwise, we can both get caught."

Arthur nodded quickly and Alfred muttered the countercurse. Too bad. He had wanted to hear what Arthur sounded like caught in the throes of uncontrollable laughter. Arthur reached out, snagging him by his sleeve and dragging him out into the corridor. He cast some kind of spell that silenced their footsteps and then took off at a sprint. They didn't stop running until they were in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and gasping for breath.

"F-fuck," Alfred breathed out, dropping back against the wall.

"F-Francis, actually," Arthur suddenly kicked him in the shin. "You're a bloody fool telling him the time and place. Just like him to tattle."

"You know," Alfred backed away. "You kind of blame everything on Francis."

"He deserves it." Arthur said sharply. "But..." His eyes narrowed. "You weren't trying to trick me by lowering your wand earlier, were you?"

Alfred blinked, before grinning hopefully. "No, I swear."

Arthur said nothing for a long moment. "Tickling curse?"

Alfred's grin widened. "It did what it was supposed to do."

"One of the only two spells you know, I'm sure."

"Oh, and what's the other one?" Alfred asked cheekily, breathlessly. For some reason, the night took his fears away. He smiled brilliantly at Arthur.

Arthur looked at his grin in confusion, shifting from foot to foot. He raised his wand level with Alfred's face, and Alfred froze. " _Reparo._ " Alfred felt the frames of his glasses slap back into perfect alignment. "Obviously not that one," He said snidely, pocketing his wand.

"You know so many spells," Alfred murmured in awe. "Even more than most sixth years."

"Most sixth years are idiots." Arthur retorted, glancing at the Fat Lady who was beginning to doze off now that he hadn't given her a password. "Oi, I'd like to get in."

She roused, grumbling. "Password?"

"Well, I'll... see you, I guess." Alfred said hopefully.

Arthur frowned. "Listen, Alex."

"Alfr-

"I don't regret jinxing you. You're annoying. Frankly, you deserved it for that. But I know you don't have anywhere near the minimal magical capability it takes to make a Howler. I'm done talking with you. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay?"

"Oh," Alfred bit his lip, watching the Fat Lady start to nod off again. "Alright, then. I'll talk with you tomorrow, I guess."

"No," Arthur grimaced. "Don't talk to me. If you talk to me, I'm going to act like I don't know you."

"Oh." Alfred looked at his feet. "Well, good luck with your year then. I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch sometime, I guess."

" _You_ play Quidditch?" Arthur raised his thick eyebrows disdainfully.

"Do you ever pay attention to who's playing on the other teams?" Alfred asked, irritated.

"I pay attention to important people." Arthur waved a hand dismissively, turning to the Fat Lady again. "Oi!"

Alfred sighed, shoving his hands in his robes pockets. Well, he was back to square one again. Arthur was going to ignore him. "Hey I'm sorry about your grandpa or whoever," He said as Arthur started to step through the portrait hole.

"Who?" Arthur stared at him blankly.

"The man that died," Alfred said around a yawn. "He had your name. The man that died at the Triwizard Tournament."

Arthur froze, his face going white. "H-How did-

"Goodnight," Alfred didn't notice, turning for the soothing darkness of the corridor and longing for his Hufflepuff bed. "Won't talk to ya. Won't look at ya. You won't even exist to me." He knew that was a lie, but whatever.

0 0 0

It was a sunny September evening several days later when Alfred stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch, flanked by Ned and Toris. Matthew was noticeably absent, probably holed away in the library, and definitely still irritated that Alfred had flat out ignored his advice about dueling Arthur. It wasn't like it had resulted in anything though. If anything, Arthur ignored him even more steadfastly.

Before them sprawled the legendary Gryffindor Quidditch team, just finishing up their tryouts. Hufflepuff always got the pitch last, no matter how early they made the reservation. Per usual, Ned and Toris flopped down on the edge of the field to wait the Gryffindors out.

Arthur stood in the center in his too-small sweater, giving orders to second years. Since the last captain had just graduated, Arthur was now in charge. Gilbert stood behind him, giving him bunny ears and otherwise acting the idiot. A girl overhead was demonstrating moves to a group of Chaser trainees. Alfred smiled to recognize Shelly.

She caught his eye and they waved at each other. A few minutes later she dismounted, saying something to Arthur which caused him to scowl. She jogged over to Alfred with a smile. "We'll be off the pitch in five minutes. Sorry for taking so long."

"It happens every year," Ned muttered in a longsuffering way.

Shelly grinned sheepishly at him. "You should say something then."

"It's not like Arthur Kirkland almighty will listen to us plebeians," Ned pointed out, getting to his feet anyway.

She rolled her eyes. "He isn't so tough. He just acts that way. Alfred," She turned to him and then frowned, puzzled. "Where's your captain?"  
"Oh," Alfred looked about at the small crowd of Hufflepuffs, gathering around them. "Uh, I don't know."

"The seventh years aren't playing this year." Toris chimed in softly. "Or at least that's what I heard."

Alfred blinked. "Why?"

"Well, they want to enter the tournament," Toris shifted uncomfortably with everybody's eyes on him. "It's the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, is it really that important?"

"Uh, yes." Alfred and Ned said together, incredulous. Alfred frowned, surveying the motley crew before him. So the seventh years were skipping out? What did that leave them with? There were two fifth years and the three of them and one sixth year whom Alfred had never talked to.

Wait a minute. That wasn't enough for a team. Alfred looked about for the usual crowd of hopeful second years to find none.

"They saw our performance last year," said the sixth year as if he knew exactly what Alfred was thinking. "I'd say they made a wise decision."

"Well, we can't just not have a team," Alfred argued, feeling his face redden a bit. Shelly was still watching them.

"The king is coming," Ned muttered.

"Come on, Shells," Gilbert bounced beside Arthur, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Leave the 'Puffs to their kindergarten games."

"Where's your captain?" Arthur asked, noticing immediately just like Shelly had.

"Triwizard Tournament campaigning," Alfred answered when all the Hufflepuffs looked at him. They knew about his debacle with Arthur just like the rest of the school, and for some reason that gave him the authority of Hufflepuff spokesman.

Arthur looked at him reluctantly, like he'd been trying really hard not to. "So the Hufflepuffs can't even muster a team? How pitiful." He asked mercilessly, causing the Gryffindors behind him to chuckle. Except for Shelly who stepped on his foot.

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur. Alfred'll be the captain."

"I'll what?" Alfred blinked, having found Matthew sitting in the stands with a suspiciously familiar silky haired Ravenclaw. "Sorry, I zoned out."  
Ned laughed, as did the sixth year. "Thanks, but no thanks. We don't need the Gryffindor team telling us how to run ours."

"Well, who else is going to be your captain?" Shelly asked, crossing her arms. "Any takers?"

The Hufflepuffs looked amongst themselves, uncomfortable being bossed by this Gryffindor girl, but beginning to realize that she was right.

"You wanna be captain, Al?" Toris asked softly. "I think you're the one that cares the most besides Ned."

"A _fourth_ year Quidditch captain?" Arthur asked with a mocking laugh. "I didn't think your team could get any worse."

Ned's eyes narrowed. "Look here, Kirkland." He said boldly. "I'm not saying anything about your ruffian father or delusional love interests. Let Alfred alone. He'd be a better captain than you."

Gilbert laughed aloud, now joined by Antonio. "Them's fighting words, Puffer!"

Arthur's fingers curled into fists. "Fine," he said imperiously, throwing his head back. "I don't give a damn who you choose as your captain. Either way, we'll cremate you next match."

"Alfred, then." Ned turned to him demandingly. "You be the captain. Show Kirkland where he can stick his broomstick."

Alfred's eyes bulged and he laughed nervously. "B-between his legs, like usual. I mean..." He winced at how awful that sounded. Gilbert had started snickering again. "Look it's our tryout time. Can you guys leave?"

"Sure thing," Shelly chirped, looping her arm through Arthur's. He tried to push her away, but she wouldn't have it. "Come on, Artie. We'll need new tactics now that Alfred's captain."

"If by new tactics, you mean that I'm bringing a bag of crisps to eat in the air during the next Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, then I suppose you're right." Arthur allowed himself to be led away. The Gryffindor sixth years all trailing behind him, shooting the Hufflepuffs challenging glares.

"What was that about?"

Alfred turned to see Matthew behind him, looking wary.

"Gryffindors," Ned grumbled to general laughter.

"Alfred's captain now," Toris informed happily. "But we still don't have enough players for a full team."

Matthew didn't seem surprised at all by this new information. "What about the second years?"

"No show."

"Hmm... Well," He glanced uncertainly back at Alfred. "I haven't played in ages. Not since first year. And I don't really like it. But... if you needed... maybe I could-

"Mattie, you are the best," Alfred beamed, grabbing his best friend in a mandatory hug. "Arthur just verbally eviscerated us. We can't just suck now."

He turned to the small group. "Well, uh, what positions do you guys want to play this year? Now's your chance to take what you want."

"Alfred should be Seeker," Toris chimed in happily. "That way he can see Arthur's face when he steals the snitch right out under his nose."

The whole team laughed. Matthew punched Alfred lightly in the arm. "I think that's a good idea. I'll play Chaser with Ned."

They divvyed out the rest of the positions and decided to fly around for a bit. As Alfred chased his snitch, he could feel himself getting excited. A chance to take Arthur head-on. Arthur had been playing the Seeker position since he was twelve years old. He was phenomenal. To any and everybody, Alfred didn't stand a chance.

But as he dived and twisted past the other players, with a chance to play the position he wanted, well, let's just say that things were finally starting to get interesting.

The way Arthur had said, "A _fourth_ year captain?" was the same way everybody else had said, "A _second_ year Seeker?" a couple years ago. And the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been obliterating hopes and dreams ever since. Maybe, just maybe, Alfred could turn that tide.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all! Pardon my French! (no seriously, this chapter has French in it and I'm not sure I got it right at all, haha).**

 **This has been a long time coming. Thanks for all your interest though! And I hope you'll still be excited for this update ten years late. :)**

 **Back to Hogwarts! All aboard. Much love, doze**

* * *

"Careful." Francis's manicured fingernails curled over Alfred's hand. "Are you sure you want to add that now?"

The simmering cauldron billowed steam, coating Alfred's face in grease. A newt tail was grasped in his other hand, about to be plopped into the conglomerate mess that was supposed to be his Strengthening Solution.

"Uh, yeah."

Francis exhaled, looking at the ceiling. "Did you even read the directions?"

"Yeah!"

"Read them again."

With Francis still holding his hand over the cauldron, Alfred scanned the directions on the board. It wasn't his fault that Francis's handwriting read like an antique document. "Oh, it says don't add it yet."

"Yes, oh." Francis shoved his hand back down. "Stir three times clockwise first and then we wait ten minutes."

Obediently Alfred took up the stirring rod, and even then he still stirred four times rather than three.

"I swear you're as bad as Arthur." Francis muttered under his breath as the solution turned an ugly gray.

Alfred sniffed it, wrinkling his nose. Rotten eggs again. "Sorry."

Francis settled down on a stool beside him, pulling up a piece of parchment. Despite the fumes from the cauldron, his hair was in perfect place. "I heard you're the new Quidditch captain?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah."

"I thought Arthur was just joking."

Alfred flinched. "That really makes me feel good."

Francis glanced up again, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "He hates you."

"Really? Cuz it seems like he hates you more." Alfred crossed his arms moodily.

"He hates us in different ways," Francis waxed philosophical. It was getting late and they were still in the dungeons trying to perfect Alfred's potion technique for his practical the next day. Because nobody else was there, they tended to have weird conversations in Alfred's tutoring sessions.

"He hates me because I'm not giving him what he wants. He hates you because you made him look like an ass."

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "It was a lot easier than I thought it would be."  
Francis laughed, throwing his head back.

Alfred cleared his throat. "You don't _like_ Arthur, do you?"

Francis merely raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'll have this conversation with you?"

"Never mind." Alfred ducked his head in embarrassment, pretending to check on his potion again. Francis was too good at making him feel like a child. For a while they worked in silence.

Francis helped Alfred add his newt tail and even held Alfred's hand to make sure he stirred the correct number of times. They sat down to wait and Francis played with a strand of his long hair, twisting it around his finger.

"Arthur doesn't know what he wants, but I do. That's the difference between us." Francis brushed the strand behind his ear. "He thinks that I make him happy, but I don't. I like Arthur, but he doesn't know what he wants."

Alfred's face flushed. He tapped the stirring rod nervously against the counter. Why was Francis telling him this? He'd just been expecting a shut up and a kick in the ass, not a real answer.

"You're wondering why I'm telling you this," Francis continued. "I may be wrong, but I have a theory…" He abruptly shook his head. "Never mind, it's silly. It's just…" For once, Francis seemed at a loss for words. "Does Matthew need any help with potions?"

"Matthew?" Alfred asked blankly.

"You're friends with him, aren't you?"

Alfred nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's my best friend. Uh, he's pretty smart, so I don't think he needs help. Maybe later in the year."

"Oh well." Francis said, tracing his thumb over the curling edge of his parchment. "Do you speak French too?"

Alfred laughed. "No. I'm from America."

"That means you can't speak French?"

"Duh," Alfred winked. "Matthew grew up speaking French. I only know a few words from him."

"I see." Francis bit his lip. "Can you understand: _Vous et Arthur êtes très amusant pour moi._ "

"Uhh." Alfred stared blankly at him. "I know how to say cheese and idiot."

"Perfect." Francis smiled with all his teeth. "Can you give this to Matthew?" He picked up his quill and scrawled a few brief sentences, handing it to Alfred. "Don't worry." He added with a coy smile. "Arthur doesn't know a word of French either."

"I know two words." Alfred argued, glancing over the paper. "I also know how to use a translator app."

"A what?"

"Nothing."

The paper read _: Tu me manques. Voulez-vous me rencontrer? Aussi, pourquoi avez-vous seulement lui apprendre à dire idiot et fromage?_

Alfred glanced up. "Who are you calling an idiot?"

Francis laughed. "Perhaps Matthew will tell you. Come, let's clean this up."

They were just stashing the cauldron away when the heavy wooden door swung open, breaking their spell. Kiku stood tall in his Ravenclaw robes. Arthur sulked behind him, dragging his feet. Upon seeing each other, Francis and Arthur looked away, and Alfred dropped the stirring rod.

"Hello Alfred." Kiku smiled. "Are you just finishing up?"

"Yep." Alfred shoved his hands in his robes pockets. "Francis has realized that he is incapable of working miracles. And I'm going to fail my practical tomorrow."

"Strengthening Solution?" Kiku asked.

Alfred nodded.

"Well." And Alfred could swear his dark eyes sparkled mischievously for a moment. "Arthur and I are planning to review that potion today, as he… did not do as well as his professor wanted in class today."

"That's an understatement." Francis muttered.

"Oh fuck off." Arthur sneered. "You're one to talk. Shelly jinxed you in Defense today while you were fixing your hair in the window reflection."

"That says nothing about my Defense abilities. You suck at Potions."

" _Fuck_ off." Arthur repeated moodily and then yawned.

Alfred noticed that Arthur's robes were splattered in mud and his hair was particularly wind blown today. He must have just come from Quidditch practice.

"Excited about the match this weekend?" Alfred asked brightly, glancing between the two of them. "It's Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor."

"Francis doesn't play Quidditch." Arthur responded, his lip curled. "He plays keepaway. From me."

Francis only smiled indulgently. "When I catch the snitch tomorrow, I'll put on a bit of lip stick and give it a big kiss just for you."

Kiku cleared his throat. "Alfred would you like to stay with us and review the Strengthening Solution one more time?"

Francis looked like he might burst from trying not to laugh, and Arthur turned his impressive glare Kiku's way. "I thought these were supposed to be individual lessons!"

"I'm the tutor." Kiku responded, cool and badass. "I can lead the session however I want. And I think since Alfred has already reviewed it a bit, he can guide you through the steps. You'll both get the practice then." He raised a single black eyebrow at Alfred. "Go on. Fetch the cauldron."

"Yes, sir." Alfred chirped.

Arthur was terrible. Even worse than he was.

Alfred couldn't stop smiling the entire time.

0 0 0

"Ravenclaw v. Gryffindor! Ravenclaw v. Gryffindor!" Alfred chanted as he skipped around Matthew's chair in the common room. He threw his rucksack down, probably damaging his potions text. But who gave a damn about that anyway? It was Ravenclaw v. Gryffindor today, and he was ready to see Arthur and Francis tear each other to shreds.

"Oh you wanted to go to that?" Matthew looked over the edge of his book and Alfred collapsed overdramatically on the rug in front of the fireplace.

"Mattie!"

"What?"

"I've only been talking about it all week! You can't do this to me."

"I was just joking, Alfred." Matthew closed his book with a half-grin. "Come on. Ned's already down at the stadium. We'll get some good seats near the Ravenclaws."

The day was lovely for September. The sky cloudless. Everything was bright. The grass going brown at the edges but still pretty green in the center. Alfred shivered brightly, waving Toris over as they started to ascend the stairs of the stadium. Most of the crowd were wearing either blue or red. It was still a bit warm for the scarves, but that didn't keep anyone from dawning them.

Matthew had borrowed one from Kiku in Ravenclaw colors. Alfred thought about stealing something red from one of the Gryffindors, but figured his friends would murder him for showing support for Arthur, so he settled for shouting. Loudly.

Ned had managed to get seats right near the front. Alfred peered boldly over the edge, smiling at the crazy drop. Quidditch time. In the center of the field, a brown chest bounced and rocked all by itself. The bludgers looked like they would be nasty today.

At the ref's whistle, the Ravenclaw team trotted onto the field. Francis's gold hair gleamed in the sunlight as he adjusted the pads around his wrists. When the announcer called his name, he raised a single hand and smiled charismatically. At least half of the Ravenclaw girls squealed. Matthew muttered something under his breath in French that sounded suspiciously like 'What an idiot.'

As if Francis could sense he was annoying Matthew, he tapped his ear and made the audience cheer louder before mounting his broom. Francis wasn't the captain of the Ravenclaw team, but he was more than confident enough to hold the position if he wanted it.

Alfred wasn't paying any more attention to the Ravenclaws though. Gryffindor had just entered the pitch. As the captain, Arthur went first, his chin tipped up proudly. His team fanned out behind him in brilliant red and gold. Shelly's hair was tied back with red ribbons, and she half-skipped as she followed at Arthur's right hand. Antonio appeared to be singing something and Gilbert was grinning evilly. The Gryffindors shook the whole stadium by stomping, slowly and then faster, faster, faster. Alfred's heart leaped into his mouth with excitement. Matthew tried to say something but it was lost to the banging.

Arthur dropped his broom as he approached the referee, holding out his hand for the Ravenclaw captain to shake. He didn't seem nervous at all, though it was his first year as captain and a lot was riding on his shoulders. Arthur had replaced many of the graduated seventh years with new faces. He was responsible for altering the team, coaching it, and still being a kickass Seeker. The Gryffindors (and really the whole school) expected nothing less than a win.

Alfred's fingers dug into the bench as he watched Arthur mount his broom. The Snitch was released and both Francis and Arthur followed it with their eyes, jaws tight. It seemed like a small eternity, but then the whistle was blown and everybody took to the sky. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike started up a roar that drowned out the announcer.

Alfred couldn't help but join in, and even Matthew was grinning, his odd violet eyes gleaming with life.

Shelly scored the first points not two seconds after the whistle, and Ned swore.

"What is it?" Lizzy asked him in a low voice. "Not enough cleavage for you?"

"Ned's got a crush." Toris informed Alfred and then yelped when Ned stepped on his foot.

"I think she's more into Alfred than you. Look, she's waving at him." Lizzy smirked.

"What?" Alfred glanced up confusedly and had to duck when Shelly in pursuit of the Quaffle swept right over their section. He felt her robe brush across the top of his head.

"Shelly is an unknown quantity." Kiku stated emotionlessly. "Right, Matthew?"

But Matthew wasn't paying attention to any of them. "Look, Al. I think he's found it."

"Who? The Snitch? Where?" Alfred nearly sprained his neck, whipping his head around.

"Francis." Matthew didn't point, but it was easy to find the older Ravenclaw, drifting lazily above the action, chin in his palm.

"Uh. He's just floating there, Matthew."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "You're going to be a terrible Seeker."

Alfred's face heated up and he swore. "Fuck off." Nonetheless, he tried to see what Matthew saw. If Francis had found the Snitch, why wasn't he going for it? Why… Alfred's eyes scanned the air for Arthur, finding him not too far behind Francis. He was looking in the exact opposite direction, but his body was tense, his head turned slightly. He was keeping an eye on Francis out of his peripheral vision.

Francis did appear to be floating aimlessly, but after a minute Alfred saw that he was in fact drifting in a certain direction. His wavy blonde hair flowing back with the breeze. And then down near the grass… Alfred saw it!

"The Snitch!" He whispered and Matthew stepped on his foot angrily. If any of the Gryffindors heard them talking, they'd be shouting and Arthur would certainly be aware of it very quickly. Half the reason Quidditch was so fun was audience participation anyway. If they managed to see the Snitch before the Seekers, the screaming would be otherworldly. Alfred bit down on his sleeve, glancing sheepishly Arthur's way and then back at Francis. Damn, that guy was sneaky. If Francis pulled a move like that on him, he would have totally fallen for it.

Francis was very close to the Snitch, about three feet away when he carefully took his chin out of his hand and reached forward. Like he was sneaking something out of a cookie jar. Kiku, Matthew, and Alfred were the only ones who had noticed. It looked like the game would be over before it even began.

Arthur was all the way across the field, scowling something fierce as he flitted by his Keeper's hoops. Francis's fingers were inches away. The little bugger jumped downwards like a game of chase, and Francis's features hardened. He glanced quickly Arthur's way, before slowly descending. The Snitch dropped again. Francis seemed to be debating just bolting for it when a holler went up from the Gryffindor side.

Francis swore loudly enough for all the Ravenclaws to hear. "Merde!" He lunged forward and the Snitch darted away from him, gaining energy from the screaming crowd. But it was still in sight, and Francis was off in a blur of blue and bronze robes.

Alfred and Matthew jumped to their feet. Arthur was careening across the field, his head low, like a bullet from a shot gun. He and Francis were heading right for each other as the Snitch spun its erratic path towards the center of the field. Alfred heard Arthur yelling, "Get out of the way! Out of the way!" as he swerved through the mob of Chasers and into the fray.

Francis's team were a little less slovenly and scurried to move, ducking and diving as Francis shot through them, eyes glued to the Snitch in front of him.

"They're going to run into each other!" Ned shouted, gripping the stadium wall in front of him. Everybody was shouting. The Snitch appeared to be bullbaiting both of them. Just ahead of Francis and flying towards Arthur. But they wouldn't actually collide, they were too good for that, weren't they?

Just to make matters worse a rogue bludger from one of the Gryffindor beaters (probably Gilbert) sailed on a wonky path towards Francis. It hit the handle of his broom stick, splintering it into pieces and spinning him out of control just as his fingers brushed the golden ball in front of him. The Ravenclaws began yelling foul play, but the ref called nothing. Arthur was still a foot or two behind him, but seeing Francis's hand so near the Snitch must have lit a fire. He inched to the very tip of his broom stick and lunged. He held his balance by his ankles, the whole front half of his body spread eagle like he was skydiving and the broom trailing behind him, held only by his dirty trainers. Arthur threw his arm out wildly as far as it would go.

Alfred's fingers dug into his fists and he swore with the rest of the Gryffindors when Arthur's fingers just missed and he flipped dangerously upside down, clinging desperately to his broom with his feet. They were at least 300 feet off the ground. Luckily, Shelly and the rest of the team seemed used to Arthur's ridiculous heroics and she breezed by him, grabbing him by his arm and spinning him 180 degrees back onto his broom. She didn't even stop, streaking after a Ravenclaw Chaser with the Quaffle clutched under his arm.

"Wicked." Alfred whispered, but the fight wasn't over yet.

Francis had gained control of his broom and was shooting upwards, sending wooden splinters flying off behind him. The Golden Snitch winked coyly in the September light, making a straight path for the stars, it seemed. Arthur came up on Francis's right shoulder, neck and neck as they flew straight up. There was a bit of a tussle. It was unclear who bumped who first, but Arthur delivered a nasty slam to Francis's side, a terrible vindictive gleam in his eyes. Francis' broom was already broken. He was having to hold farther back on the handle than he was used to. The slam was so obviously a foul, but the ref was too out of range to see it. Francis's hand jerked free of the broom, and the speed with which they were traveling caused the other hand to slip. For a second, Francis fumbled at thin air while his broom kept accelerating above him.

Then. He fell.

Screams of horror nearly deafened them from the Ravenclaw section. Ravenclaw Chasers abandoned their positions to try and intercept Francis, but he was falling too fast. He would knock them out of the air if they tried. Matthew glanced frantically at the teachers section. It was the first game of the season. There should be someone capable enough to slow him down.

But nothing was happening. Nothing was happening. Blood roared in Alfred's ears. Why was no one doing anything? Francis could be killed falling from that height. Alfred couldn't take it a moment longer. He whipped out his wand and said words that made no sense to anybody but himself. No one was paying attention to him. Not even his friends had noticed that he drew his wand.

That strange warmth enveloped him, the kind he only experienced from performing powerful magic. He had the sudden certainty that his spell worked. He dropped his wand and watched impassively as Francis continued to fall. There were teachers now, waving their wands. The referee was attempting to do something. Nothing was working. (Why was nothing working?) Francis himself had enough wits about him to pull out his own wand, waving it erratically and trying to get off a helpful spell. All he managed to do was send a few purple sparks upwards.

Alfred watched them drift on the wind. All the way up to Arthur Kirkland, who seemed to have forgotten the arm raised triumphantly over his head, Golden Snitch in hand. His fingers slipped and the Snitch flittered away.

Francis barreled into the ground at an ungodly speed, bouncing upwards like a rubber, five cent toy. He flailed, people screamed. Then he hit the ground again and bounced upwards again. A little less high this time, but still some decent air. His face was priceless. Eventually, people realized the physics of it was impossible. And eventually Francis stopped bouncing, landing in an ungraceful heap and clutching his wrist.

Alfred frowned. He was pretty sure the spell (whatever it was) wasn't supposed to hurt. Maybe Francis had landed weird.

" _Mon dieu_." Matthew ran his fingers shakily through his hair. "He's not dead."

The Ravenclaw team swarmed Francis, so that the referee had to push them all aside. After several anxious minutes, Francis was helped to his feet by the Ravenclaw Beaters. The stadium clapped for him as he hobbled off, looking more shocked than anything. But would you believe it, his hair was still perfect?

"That must be a charm." Alfred muttered, before he was being jerked out of the stadium by a determined Matthew.

"We're going to the hospital wing. Hurry up." Matthew didn't give a reason for why he so desperately wanted to see Francis, but he didn't have to.

Alfred glanced over his shoulder one last time, before he could be pulled into the belly of the stands and down the stairs. Arthur was the only one left in the air. Gryffindor had won the match. The others were celebrating as much as was polite on the ground, but Arthur hadn't joined them. Alfred's heart missed a beat when they made eye contact. Arthur's thick brows were furrowed together. For just a second, not even enough time for a breath, he saw Arthur's worry and guilt. And Arthur hid nothing from him. Then Matthew pulled him away.

They stood outside the hospital wing with most of the Ravenclaw team for nearly an hour before they were allowed in. Francis, according to the nurse, had sustained a broken wrist, a concussion, and a couple hairline cracks in his kneecaps, but something magical had certainly been on his side today.

He was sprawled out in the hospital bed, still in his Quidditch uniform. His wrist was already healed, but the nurse had taken the precaution of wrapping something around it. Newly healed bone was still liable to break easily. She hadn't done much for his knees for some medical reason that Alfred didn't understand. So he would have trouble walking for a few days until they healed.

He and Matthew hung back while a shell-shocked Francis bantered with his Ravenclaw friends. The nurse was giving them a stink eye. She'd only wanted to let in friends of Francis. Two fourth year Hufflepuffs weren't likely to be on that list. Shelly came jogging in a couple minutes later, going straight up to his bed and shoving him lightly in the shoulder.

"You're worse than Arthur!" She half-whined. "That was the most theatrical near miss with death I've ever seen."

Francis smiled tightly, but something in his gaze suggested that mentioning Arthur was a bad move. "He's not here, is he?"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you think?"

"Good." Francis replied shortly and the Ravenclaws mirrored his hard eyes. He sat up and looked away from her, like he couldn't think of anything else to say. He spotted Matthew and Alfred skulking in the corner.

"Matthieu!" He called, sounding suddenly much more like himself. The Ravenclaws turned in confusion to allow he and Matthew closer. "And Alfred! I trust that was a game to sate your thirst for blood." He added, winking slyly at Alfred.

"Wrong person, really." Alfred chuckled. "You shoulda knocked Arthur off his broom."

"I shall make it my personal mission to make that happen next match."

The Ravenclaws laughed heartily, and Shelly tilted her head curiously to the side.

"Well, it's Hufflepuff v. Gryffindor before then." Matthew pointed out in a quiet voice. He had migrated to the head of Francis's bed and was playing lightly with the edge of his pillowcase.

"Should be a most interesting match. We'll be there." Francis spoke for the whole of the Ravenclaw team.

"If you can make it up the stands." Matthew frowned, looking over his shoulder.

Alfred sighed. That was Matthew's worried look.

Francis appeared to recognize it, too. Because he puffed up gleefully. "Don't worry, _mon petit._ I am a fast healer. Arthur will have to try harder than that to get rid of me."

"Alright," the nurse intervened, not seeming to notice Matthew and Francis's red faces. "He needs to rest so he can be out by dinnertime."

Matthew started to leave with Alfred, but Francis caught his sleeve and detained him. Alfred stood outside the hospital wing for ten minutes waiting before he gave it up. He was just turning round the corridor to head back to his common room when he was jumped.

"How is he?"

"Sh-shit. Don't do that!" Alfred tried to wriggle out of the hands that gripped his shoulders, but Arthur would not be shaken.

"Answer me. I'm starving and there's a party going on in the Gryffindor common room right now." Arthur was still in his Quidditch uniform, wreaking of sweat. His wild hair was plastered to his forehead, and he was panting. Arthur squeezed his shoulders even tighter, gritting his teeth impatiently. "Well?"

"Who? Francis?"

"No, the nurse. Fuck, Alfred, just answer my question."

Alfred's mouth dropped open. "Woah. Wait. You know my name."

Arthur scowled and shoved him away. "You're fucking useless, Alex."

"Why don't you ask Shelly? She was there."

"It doesn't matter," Arthur spat, sounding flustered. "I'm asking you."

"Why?" Alfred muttered bitterly. "You're the idiot who knocked him out of the air. What? Do you think I won't tell anyone that you asked after him?"

"I know you won't tell anyone." Arthur snarled, jamming his wand into Alfred's chest. "Well? I'd like to get back to my party."

Alfred sighed. "He's fine. He has a concussion and his knees are messed up, but he'll be able to play Ravenclaw's next game."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I thought everyone was overreacting."

Alfred scowled. "Well, he could have died."

"He didn't. And he should learn how to hold onto his broom better." Arthur turned on his heel. "I am going to get pissed. Have a nice night, Alex."

For a minute, Alfred was overwhelmed with a strange anger he'd never felt towards Arthur before. Was it really too hard for him to apologize? It had been a clear foul. One that had nearly killed Francis. He could try and be the bigger person, at least once.

Alfred bit the inside of his cheek. "I hope the Snitch was worth it."

Arthur didn't turn around when he answered. "Oh, don't worry. It was."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! Please send me all your good vibes this week as I have finals *sobs*. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I look forward to posting more over Christmas break.**

 **much love, doze**

 **FYI: when I say pygmy in this chapter like fifty times, I mean pygmy puff. The little round fuzzy creatures that Fred and George bred.**

 **PLEASE SKIP THIS NEXT PART:**

* * *

 _ **Dear Guest Reviewer (who kindly left me no way to respond),**_

 _ **Thank you for making me aware that my story is not in the Crossover category. It was almost as if I had done it on purpose. My story is not written for the HP fandom, but for the Hetalia fandom and therefore is in the correct category. Have you contacted every Hetalia writer that has done this before me? And in your freetime, do you also contact people whose titles are in all caps or who use music lyrics not in the public domain?**_

 _ **I don't appreciate receiving such a rude and threatening review. If you plan on reporting me, just say it. It seems weird to me that you wrote this with the Guest feature. Do you have an account? If not, please stop policing the community. If so, wouldn't it have been nicer to PM me and share your concerns?**_

 ** _Put simply, the Crossover category is shit. Who wants to sift through such an unorganized and unhelpful category? I never claimed ownership over Hetalia or HP. My work is for the Hetalia audience exclusively._**

 ** _Thank you for your unrelated comments._**

 ** _Overwhelmed with affection, doze._**

 ** _((Now you guys know if something happens to me, it's because of this person telling me about the high courts of FF authority. :)_**

* * *

Alfred stood next to Matthew and Toris, watching the blue-glowing fire in the cup with unbridled interest. Their homework was spread around them. Matthew was already through with most of it. Alfred hadn't even started. He couldn't keep his eyes off the tournament hopefuls who were putting their names into the cup. And neither could most of the school.

The stone walls echoed with laughter and whispers. Every house in Hogwarts had some loungers, keeping one eye on the cup. He was painfully aware of Arthur eating an apple surrounded by a crowd of Gryffindors, including Shelly and Gilbert. A few Gryffindor seventh years had just put their names in and were being celebrated by Arthur's crew. Gilbert enjoyed himself by trying to step inside the age ring and getting thrown back into Antonio's arms. Anyone under the age of seventeen was prevented from getting anywhere near the cup.

Francis and a spattering of Ravenclaws weren't far away from them. When they thought people weren't watching Francis and Matthew exchanged glances. Francis was glowing. But the joke was on them, because Alfred was always watching his best friend. He turned his eye miserably on Arthur, who playfully tossed his apple core at the age ring where it vaporized with a puff. Matthew was just no fun like this.

"Alfred," Toris muttered. "It's almost time for Care of Magical Creatures. You coming?"

Alfred got to his feet grumpily and threw his bag over his shoulder. Ever since Francis had nearly split his head open, things had calmed down in a dissatisfying way around here. He could really use some tournament excitement right about now.

They were studying pygmies today. The girls shrieked and giggled when it was their turn to hold a little furball. Alfred snuck one a few feet away in his robe pocket, then he sprawled on his back and set it on his chest. It wobbled around on tiny bird feet, trying to keep its plump round body upright. Every time he breathed in, it fell over, and he couldn't stop laughing.

He was just teasing it by blowing in its face when someone knicked it. "Hey! Give that…" He trailed off when he saw Arthur Kirkland holding his pygmy.

"You're supposed to be sitting with the rest of the class." Arthur said breathlessly. His cheeks were a little pink and his robes in disarray, suggesting he had run here. Late.

Alfred sighed. "The professor doesn't mind. In fact, I don't think he needs your help. I've got this."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm just waiting for you to sit on one of these." He walked away to return the pygmy to the group and when he thought Alfred wasn't looking he raised it furtively to his lips and pressed a little kiss to its fuzzy head. Alfred scowled and rolled over onto his belly.

In the distance, he could make out the Quidditch pitch. Stormclouds appeared to gather around the highest hoops. It just infuriated him that Arthur could be so awesome, and like animals like he did, and still be such a jerk about what happened to Francis.

"Alex."

Alfred ignored him.

"Alex!"

He didn't turn around.

"Alex!"

"Oh, Arthur. His name is Alfred." The professor corrected. "Alfred!"

Reluctantly, Alfred got to his feet and joined the group. After class, the professor gave them tiny bags for all the pygmy poop. Alfred frowned at the squishy blue stuff, pinching one with his fingers experimentally.

"Going to eat it?" Arthur asked him with one eyebrow raised.

"It doesn't smell too bad." Alfred replied, shoving it into the bag. "But I'm not that stupid."

"Are you sure?"

"Ha." Alfred wasn't in a hurry to head back for his Charms class, so he reclined against one of the nearby trees.

Arthur to his surprise didn't seem to be in much of a hurry either. He dropped the poop bags in the grass and pulled out a sugar quill from his pocket. Then he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a pygmy!

"Did you steal that?" Alfred hissed in amazement, leaning forward.

"No." Arthur lied as he offered it the sugar quill. It did the cutest little dance and they both chuckled. Stopping quickly and looking away from each other.

"I love pygmies." Alfred said quietly. "But our Head of House confiscated mine last year."

"Did you steal it from the Care of Magical Creatures store?"

"No." Alfred lied cheekily and Arthur's lips twitched.

For a while, they sat in silence. Arthur released the pygmy into the grass, where it promptly gave them another piece of poop to clean up. Alfred giggled boyishly, sprawling onto his back. "Before you interrupted me, I was doing this." He picked up the pygmy carefully and set it on his chest. He took a deep breath and its fat body toppled over. It righted itself, but by that time Alfred had already taken another breath, knocking it over.

"You're so cruel." Arthur murmured, rescuing the poor thing and placing it on the grass again. "I have a few at home. Mum let me breed them last summer."

"How can you tell which are girls and which are boys?"

Arthur sat upright a little more and held out the pygmy for him to see. "It's easy, see. The girls always have this tuft of fur at the…" He had gone into teaching mode, his shoulder pressed into Alfred's and his longish hair tickled Alfred's cheek as he held the pygmy under Alfred's nose, showing him the different features. Abruptly, Arthur remembered who he was talking to and straightened up with a cough.

To Alfred's surprise, his cheeks had gone faintly pink. "Pygmies are girls' pets, anyway." He said gruffly. "M-my mum just told me about that stuff. I don't really care." To prove his point, he tossed the fat pygmy on the ground, but with enough gentleness that it only bounced once and wasn't harmed at all.

Alfred frowned, reaching for it. "Well, I like them."

"You're not much of a man, Alex."

"Thanks." Alfred rolled his eyes, bringing the pygmy up to brush against his cheek. "I wish I could have magical creatures at home. My mom won't even let me keep an owl."

"Really?" Arthur asked despite himself. "How do you get your mail?"

"School owls." Alfred laughed weakly. "Not the most reliable things."

"Well, some of them are nearly 100 years old." Arthur said defensively. "The school overworks them, they do. Some of them are nearly blind! What they need is a…" He fell off again, cheeks reddening. "I mean, I've only seen them fly into things before, the idiots. I've never seen a more stupid animal in my life. I could never stand using one. I've got my own owl. She was 20 Galleons!"

Alfred ignored this and said, "What is it they need?"

"I…" Arthur scowled, taking the pygmy back without thinking. His fingers twisted gently through its fur and it chirped, nestling happily in the palms of Arthur's hands. "Nothing. I misspoke."

Alfred shrugged. "I feel bad for them, too. I think they get lonely. Since they don't really belong to anyone."

Arthur swallowed noticeably, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I don't feel bad for them. They should just kill the damn things. They're useless."

Alfred knew he was lying then, but he didn't say anything. Arthur had gone back to feeding bits of his sugar quill to the pygmy. The back of his neck was red now too. Why was he so embarrassed about liking magical creatures?

"Don't you have a class?"

Arthur scowled. "Don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm going. I'm going."

0 0 0

Later that day, Alfred was on his way back to his common room from dinner when Shelly caught up with him.

"Alfred," She said tiredly. "Can I talk to you?"

He blinked, mouth still crammed with sweet roll. "Uh huh."

She looped her arm through his and began leading him down the familiar corridor towards the Gryffindor Tower. They walked in silence for such a long time that Alfred was beginning to feel awkward.

"What is it?" He asked gruffly.

"Nothing." Shelly admitted with a grin. "Well, there is something. I'm just tired of talking with dick boys all the time."

"Oh." Alfred laughed uneasily. "Like Arthur?"

"And Gilbert and Antonio and Francis." She rattled on.

"Francis too?"

"He just hasn't been much company recently." Her chocolate eyes glimmered curiously. "There's a rumor that he spent the night in the Hufflepuff common room the other day."

"Ah." Alfred said, neither confirming nor denying. Matthew was too careful a person for him to be able to know. But he wasn't surprised to hear it.

She stopped Alfred in a quiet corner, her eyes serious. "I have to ask you a serious question. I know that Francis likes Matthew."

"Yeah." Alfred said for lack of anything to say. The secondhand embarrassment was otherworldly right now.

"But you don't like Arthur, do you?"

Alfred balked, his face heating up. "Him? Y-you can't be serious."

Shelly squinted at him suspiciously before relaxing. "Good. Because he hates your guts. Later, Alfred."

"Wait! That was all you wanted to talk about?"

She smiled sweetly. "That's all. Night!"

0 0 0

Alfred stepped into the Forbidden Forest, trailing at the back of his class. Arthur was there too, keeping an eye on him. Making sure he didn't get too far from the pack. The Care of Magical Creatures professor hardly paid either of them any attention anymore.

"Do you still got it?" Alfred asked when Arthur stepped on the back of his foot on purpose. Trying to get him to hurry along before they were left behind.

"What?" He scowled, giving Alfred a sudden shove. "Can't you walk any faster?"

"I'm slow and stupid. Of course not. And the pygmy? Do you have it?"

Arthur stopped pushing. "No."

Alfred turned around to face him, grinning. "Let me see."

Arthur looked like he might argue, but instead he sighed and stuck his hand into his robes. He pulled out the pygmy and Alfred laughed in delight.

"What have you been feeding it? It's crazy fat."

It had gotten fatter. You couldn't even see its little feet anymore. It had gone from the size of a baseball to the size of a softball in a matter of days.

"I don't know." Arthur said, surprisingly sheepish. "I mean, yes, I do tend to overfeed them, but I've never had one do this before."

"Maybe it has cancer." Alfred said seriously.

"Do they get like that if they have cancer?" Arthur asked, taking it back quickly and running his fingers around the belly nervously. "Did it catch something, do you think?"

Alfred carefully wrested the creature from Arthur's hands again, brushing it against his face. It chirped brightly. Its eyes were clear. There didn't appear to be any discharge anywhere. When you pushed on its stomach, it didn't react differently. "Nah, I think it's just fat." He laughed as he handed it back.

"Of course," Arthur said sourly. "Would you believe this thing though? She sings at night. Gilbert nearly found her the other day."

"That could have been bad."

"I know." Arthur agreed huffily. "But my sugar quills keep her quiet, so maybe that's why she's gotten er… plump."

Alfred laughed at Arthur's adorable manner. "Maybe she needs a little exercise. You've been keeping her in your pocket all day."

"She needs a lot of exercise, really." Arthur smiled, rubbing the pygmy underneath his chin where it made a happy clicking noise.

Alfred felt his cheeks heat up, and he had to look away. Damn, Arthur had such a great smile. "Does she have a name?"

"No." Arthur answered too quickly.

"Come on." Alfred pleaded, skipping ahead of him. They were alone in the forest. They had well and truly lost the group now. "I need something to call her when I ask you about it."

"You won't be asking me about her." Arthur responded gruffly. "No one knows, and I don't want them to."

Alfred cocked his head curiously, before shrugging. "It'll be like a codename. No one will know what we're talking about."

Arthur's jaw tightened. He turned his attention to the pygmy to buy himself time. Alfred was surprised to see him actually considering the idea.

"I call her Ella."

"Really?" Alfred laughed in delight, watching the red as it spread from Arthur's face to his ears. "That's awesome. You know what I'd call her though?"

"What?" Arthur rubbed self-consciously at the back of his neck. He seemed surprised that Alfred wasn't laughing more.

"Fatass."

"You're a terrible gentleman, Alfred." Arthur said, smiling toothily as he brought the pygmy up and brushed it against his cheek again.

Alfred had to stop himself from pointing out that Arthur did, in fact, know his name. Instead he grinned at the forest floor and said, "So let's design a workout routine for Ella."

Alfred left Care of Magical Creatures that day with a wide grin. Talking about Arthur's fat pygmy was a lot of fun. Arthur lit up for the chance to rave about it. He had even managed to teach her a few tricks, which was notoriously difficult. When Arthur mentioned that he was running out of sugar quills, Alfred offered to donate some of his own.

"She really doesn't need them." Arthur had said as he tried to conjure a measuring tape from his wand to measure her waist.

Alfred pouted. "Come on. You'll get her out. Let her run around some more. She'll love 'em."

Arthur had sighed. "Fine. Oh, I have to show you what she does with loose string. It's hilarious."

They had done nothing else all class session. Alfred was already looking forward to holding the pygmy again as he made his way inside.

Matthew met him for dinner. His friends had started a running complaint about Quidditch practice which they would be attempting to do in the dark that night. Last to get the pitch again. Alfred's mood was too high to be brought down over a little cold weather and a little night. Though he was extremely nervous that his Quidditch training wasn't paying off. He was struggling to coach the team. He was only fourteen and he wasn't quite sure how to go about it.

Matthew had suggested he ask Francis, but he had spurned the idea.

Even if they sucked, he wanted to be able to say that he was the captain not some pseudo captain to a sixth year Ravenclaw too clever for his own good.

Speaking of Francis, the boy himself snuck up behind Matthew, saying something joking in French. He received an elbow in the stomach for his efforts, as Matthew replied calmly in English, "I'm eating with my friends. Go be lonely somewhere else."

Francis pouted. "What are you talking about? These are my friends too."

Toris, Ned, and Lizzy wore unimpressed looks, so Francis turned on Alfred. "You're my friend, right Alfred?"

Alfred was saved the opportunity of answering, by a rather enthusiastic Arthur Kirkland. Arthur barely spared a glance Francis's way, grabbing Alfred by the shoulder. "I know what's wrong with Ella!"

"Ella?" Francis said, looking at Matthew, who shrugged.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked seriously, beginning to smile as he felt all of his friend's confused looks. Arthur seemed to be enjoying himself too.

He leaned forward conspiratorially and said in a loud whisper. "She's pregnant!"

"What!" Alfred really was excited this time. He scrambled to his feet, unable to help himself. "How did you not notice before?"

"Well, she's fat, too." Arthur added sheepishly. "Really fat. But I realized why she expanded so quickly. She's pregnant!"

"That's awesome." Alfred enthused, bouncing up and down. "Do you know what to do?"

"Of course." Arthur grinned unabashedly. "Of course, I did it all this sum—

"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Francis interrupted them with a weird look on his face. "With Alfred?" He added pointedly, like Arthur hadn't realized who he had been all but bouncing up and down with in public.

And just like that, he had shut it down. Alfred could have punched him.

Arthur scowled. "Fuck off, Francis. This has nothing to do with you." But Arthur's cheeks had gone red, and he glanced uneasily at the rest of the dining hall. Peter was snickering because his older brother was acting like an excited little kid. In front of everybody.

And as Alfred had seen, if there was one thing Arthur couldn't stand it was public embarrassment.

"J-just wanted to let you know." He said lamely to Alfred. He turned quickly on his heel and strode out of the dining hall.

Alfred hesitated only a second, before taking off after him. He cornered Arthur by the tapestry near the hidden entrance to the kitchens. Arthur scowled fiercely at him, looking particularly unfriendly.

"Fuck off, Alex."

"What?" Alfred held up his hands. "Aren't you excited about this?"

"Of course not. It's just a stupid pygmy. The world has millions of them. They're notoriously easy to breed. There's nothing special about them." He kicked his foot angrily against the ground, but he seemed angrier at himself than at Alfred.

"Well, I'm excited." Alfred pushed, reaching up to scratch the pear on the tapestry. The hidden passage to the kitchens opened before them.

"Why did you follow me?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I didn't follow you. This is the way to the Hufflepuff common room, wise guy."

Arthur's red cheeks grew even redder and he glared rather helplessly.

"And anyway," Alfred continued, snagging Arthur's sleeve and dragging him through the passage. "Ella's eating for two, or ten, or twenty now. You've got to keep feeding her right. I'll bet the house elves have something good around here."

The portal slid silently closed behind them. A crew of smiling house elves met them and soon had them furnished at a small wooden table in the corner. Arthur didn't know what to say at all, so he pulled Ella from his pocket and let her wander around his plate, nibbling on whatever she pleased.

"There's nothing wrong with liking pygmies." Alfred said to which he received an icy glare from Arthur.

"Yeah, if I was you, I'd gladly trumpet it to the world." Arthur ripped off a piece of bread with his teeth, glaring at the ground. "But I'm not you. Thank God."

Alfred snorted. "Are you kidding? No one would care if you liked pygmies. They all worship you."

"I know." Arthur responded brusquely. He said nothing else, tearing up his bread roll and watching Ella massacre his roastbeef. After she was done, he picked her up, rubbing his finger tenderly across her mid-section. He seemed incapable of talking about why he was so embarrassed. Alfred had no idea why he cared so much about his image. Arthur could have murdered somebody (almost did with Francis) and he would still be the school's golden boy.

"Do you want one?" Arthur asked finally. "That's why I told you. Do you want one?"

"One of the babies?"

"Yeah."

Alfred broke into a huge grin. "Fuck yeah."

Arthur snorted, bringing the pygmy up again to snuggle beneath his chin. "I hope she has fat babies." He confided in barely more than a whisper.

Alfred snickered, reaching over to scratch Ella's head. "Me too."

0 0 0

"Are you ready for this?" Ned looked over their group excitably, rubbing his hands together. "One of us is going to be the Hogwarts champion."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "We're fourth years, Ned."

"Okay, not one of us. But one of us!" Ned waved his arm to encompass the dining hall at large, filled to bursting with Hogwarts, Beuxbatons, and Durmstrang students. It was the loudest it had ever been after that evening's feast. Alfred personally wasn't as interested as he thought he would be. He and Arthur kept catching each other's eyes. Ella should be giving birth any day now, and Arthur had had to leave her in his dorm room. He was noticeably on edge about it, snapping at Antonio for breathing too loudly.

The Headmaster called them all to order, and silence descended quicker than it ever had before. The only sound was an erratic tapping noise, which Alfred realized was the sound of Arthur's shoe against the stones. He wished there was a way he could reassure Arthur. Ella would be fine if she had to give birth by herself. Arthur had charmed his bedside drawer to be warmer than the surrounding room. He had ripped up some of his blankets for bedding and had littered the area with sugar quill pieces. She would be fine. Arthur had more than prepared for it.

"Alright, for the Beauxbatons champion…" The fire belched forth a name, which the Headmaster read and Alfred didn't really hear.

Arthur's foot continued to tap sporadically and he glanced at the door.

The hall swelled with cheers. Francis smiled flirtily at the French girl who walked by, which caused Matthew to frown.

"For the Durmstrang champion…" Another name was read. Alfred caught Arthur's eye and made a face. Arthur nodded in agreement, his eyes glittering with frustration. As soon as the ceremony was over, he was bolting.

"And the Hogwarts champion…" Both he and Arthur were pulled back into the room by the sudden shifting and excitement. Alfred saw the seventh year Hufflepuffs patting each other on the back, smiling nervously.

The fire flared up and a single singed paper drifted down into the Headmaster's fingers. He blew on it lightly, unfolding it with just his fingertips. For a moment, he said absolutely nothing. Frowning at the paper as if it were too difficult to read. Slowly, his hand fell to his side. He looked out at all the waiting students with an unreadable expression.

"Arthur." He cleared his throat. "Arthur, come down here please. Arthur Kirkland."

For a second, there was silence. And then the room exploded in whispers. Arthur had frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights. His friends were pushing at him, trying to get him to his feet. Some of them were laughing. They didn't seem that surprised, but judging by Arthur's inability to stand, Alfred knew it was a surprise for him.

"Are you serious?" Lizzy whispered, whirling around with most of Hufflepuff house to glare at the Gryffindor table. "Could he be even more of an asshole?"

"I didn't think it was possible." Ned said grimly.

"How did he get past the age line?" Toris murmured in amazement.

Alfred watched as Arthur dragged himself to his feet, following behind the Headmaster to the back of the hall. He looked almost lost, and he threw a look behind his shoulder, searching for some less-hostile face. His eyes met Alfred's, and Alfred didn't know what to do.

The students were released in a swirl of speculation. No one knew how Arthur had managed to get his name into the cup. Almost everybody had a theory though, one that included a lot of bashing of Arthur's reputation. The seventh years especially were not happy. A glory-digging sixth year from a snobbish pureblood family had won the title. Of fucking course.

Alfred found that he couldn't manufacture hostility. He was still thinking of Ella and hoping that Arthur would be back in time to see her give birth.

They settled around the fireplace with a stolen bottle of fire whiskey to speculate that night. None of the prefects seemed to care that the younger students were drinking. The school was reeling from this episode. Matthew passed on the whiskey without drinking any and raised an eyebrow when Alfred did. But Alfred's mind was in other places.

He felt strange. Usually the entire school was on Arthur's side and he floated along with them. A couple of bitter Hufflepuffs that made up his friend group were the only ones who really got upset about Arthur. But the world had shifted in some fundamental way. Arthur still had his diehards, but he'd lost others in the rush. There was a lot of anger in the room.

Eventually, Alfred needed to take a walk. He slipped out of the portrait hole when no one was looking, ambling towards the kitchens with a weak Lumos spell. The fire whiskey was stronger than he expected and he was having a hard time walking a straight line. He only got so far when a high-pitched squeaky voice scared the living daylights out of him.

"Master Alfred?"

"Who's there?"

He turned stupidly, heart racing.

"I is Delfie the house elf, Master Alfred."

Alfred looked down slowly and relaxed. "Oh. Haha. You scared me there."

"Will Master Alfred be coming with Delfie please?"

"What's going on?" Alfred allowed the house elf to take his hand and lead him along. "Are you turning me in for breaking curfew?"

"Master Alfred is needed, Delfie thinks." She stopped abruptly and he walked into her.

"What?"

"No more of that fire drink, promise?"

"Fire whiskey?"

"No more."

Alfred sighed, wondering how good of noses house elves really had. "Promise."

She led him around and around. Everything in the castle looked different after dark. He only knew they were going up a lot of steps. Eventually, she tugged him to a halt.

"Password?"

Alfred jumped when he recognized the sound of the Fat Lady. This was Gryffindor Tower. "What are we doing here?" He hissed but Delfie ignored him.

" _Lux et via._ "

The portrait swung open to a relatively abandoned common room. None of the Gryffindors looked up when he stepped in. He glanced down at Delfie uncertainly, but she only kept walking, leading him through to another small room off the common room. And magically none of the remaining Gryffindors seemed to notice him. He wondered if he was dreaming.

When they got to a bookcase, Delfie instructed him to pull the green book on the fifth shelf. He did, gaping when the bookcase shuttled sideways to reveal a cramped set of spiraling stairs.

"This is where I am done." Delfie exclaimed. "Go up there, Master Alfred. You'll find what we is looking for."

Alfred didn't see much of another choice. As soon as he stepped into the passage, the bookcase slid back into place. The air was musty and heavy. As he climbed the stairs, it felt like they would go on forever. His legs grew tired, and the silence pressed in on his ears. It took him a minute to realize that there was a noise coming from above him.

The stairs swept around one last time before dumping him in a small office like space. Bookcases lined the walls, and a small window in the stone let moonlight filter in. Small golden instruments perched on every available surface, whizzing and clicking. They looked fascinating, but they didn't hold Alfred's attention. Delfie couldn't have been any clearer if she'd smacked him.

He would have recognized Arthur anywhere, even in the strange blue light of moonlight. He'd spent far too much of the past four years, memorizing every detail. He suddenly felt young and stupid. He was only fourteen and Arthur was sixteen. A world of difference, or at least it felt like it most of the time.

Alfred clumsily made his way forward. The sharp tang of fire whiskey nearly overwhelmed him as he sank to sit on the rug beside Arthur. Arthur had his head in his arms, knees drawn up so that his face was hidden. A nearly empty bottle shimmered in the moonlight next to his dirty trainers.

"Hey." He said gruffly and scared the wits out of Arthur.

Arthur jerked away from him wildly, cocking his head violently to the side. "How did you get in here?"

"A little house elf told me where to find you." Alfred picked up the bottle of firewhiskey and set it safely out of Arthur's reach. "And then led me here at gun point."

Arthur didn't understand his muggle-ism. He just massaged his wild hair back and groaned. "Delfie can't keep her nose out of things."

Alfred shrugged. "You don't look too hot. Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay." Arthur snarled, attempting to sound angry and failing. He just sounded miserable and uncertain.

"Did you put your—

"No, of course I didn't put my name in the fucking cup, Alfred. You'd think I'd know it if I did. You'd think I'd know about it." He hiccupped, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Give me back that bottle. It cost me a fortune to smuggle in."

"You're already drunk."

"Not enough." Arthur groused.

Alfred waited in silence for a few minutes before asking, "How's Ella?"

"She's not in labor yet." Arthur responded. "I checked not too long ago."

"She'll be fine." Alfred said reassuringly.

Arthur didn't say anything else.

"Do you think one of the other Gryffindors put your name in?"

"I don't want to think about it." Arthur leaned his head back against one of the bookcases. "For all I know, it was you."

"And you don't want to be in the Tournament?"

"Well, I have to, now."

"But you don't want to?"

Arthur scowled nastily. "I just told you it doesn't matter whether I want to or not. I have to act like it was all my idea."

Alfred blinked. "Why?"

Arthur groaned. "You're such an idiot. There's only one way this can work out for me. If I act like I did it all along, then maybe I'll be fine. If I start acting like a pussy, I'll just get eaten by a dragon in the tournament and roasted alive in the social sphere."

Alfred didn't honestly know what he meant by half of that, so he just nodded.

"Fuck, this just f-fucking…"

Alfred blinked in horror when Arthur's voice wavered. He wasn't going to _cry,_ was he?

"People die in the tournament, Alfred." Arthur said desperately like he was willing Alfred to understand. "People die. I… I don't want to do this. I didn't sign up for this. The Headmaster told me I couldn't back out. But I didn't do it! It's some joke. Someone's playing a joke on me! Do you understand?"

Alfred swallowed. "Yeah, Arthur. It sucks. I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say.

"I'm going to die in the tournament," Arthur whispered.

Alfred scowled. "Don't say that! No one's died in like seventy years or something. No one's died since…"

"My great uncle, I know." Arthur said in a dead voice. "I know. But he died, didn't he? No one thought he would die."

Alfred sighed, but in the dark he could tell that Arthur was serious. Maybe it was the fire whiskey compelling him to spill all his secrets. He inched closer so that his shoulder was pressed against Arthur's. He could feel the other boy shaking. Despite Delfie's orders, he silently handed Arthur the whiskey bottle again.

"You're not going to die, Arthur. You're too clever for that."

Arthur nearly choked on his swig of whiskey, laughing bitterly. "Who told you that? The fan club?"

"You don't have to do this by yourself." Alfred added softly, trying to impart some of his warmth on the other boy. Arthur continued to shake.

"Oh yeah, and who will I go crying to? Who would actually help _me_?"

Alfred frowned. "Well, I would." A lot of people would. Wouldn't they? Arthur was popular and well-liked.

"Great. A fourth year dimbo is going to help me conquer the Triwizard Tournament."

His words were meant to hurt, but they didn't get so far. Arthur's voice cracked at the end and he raised the whiskey bottle quickly to his lips, guzzling down as much of the burning substance as he could stand.

Alfred kicked his shoe against the rug. "Well, it isn't much, but it's better than being alone."

Arthur finished off the last of the bottle, tossing it with a muted thud. He burped into his palm, leaning his head back to look out the single window. "Delfie brought you hear to tell me that bullshit?"

"I guess so."

"Christ, you're a sap."

"And to stop you from drinking, I think. But I gave up on that."

"Maybe I'll become an alcoholic. Would the Headmaster kick me out then?" He sounded vaguely hopeful. Obviously drunk.

Alfred grinned. "Sounds like a plan to me. You can run a pygmy farm and grow out a rad-ass beard."

Arthur snickered, bumping his head into Alfred's shoulder. "You know what I'm really going to need tomorrow?"

"What?"  
"Hangover potion."

Alfred laughed. "You're out of luck, then. Neither of us can even brew first year potions."

"Why did Delfie send me someone so useless?"

They kept on like that into the wee hours of morning. Until Arthur passed out. And Alfred decided he would spend the night in the Gryffindor common room. He wasn't sure if anything had really changed but he hoped Arthur would be able to face Hogwarts with his head up tomorrow.


End file.
